Hermione Down Under
by CharlesTheBold
Summary: Hermione goes to Australia with Ron to restore her parents' memories, but discovers far more there than she expected. Please Review.
1. The Muggle Way of Doing Things

**Hermione Down Under**

_(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with HARRY POTTER. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it)_

_(Author's Note: this story happens shortly after the end of DEATHLY HALLOWS. I want to thiank SANDEFUR for suggesting the story theme)_

**Chapter 1 **

**The Muggle Way of Doing Things**

Hermione had ridden a Hippogriff on a mission to rescue Sirius Black. She had ridden a thestral twice, once to get to the Ministry for Magic, and once, behind Kingsley, to decoy Death Eaters away from Harry. She had ridden a dragon as a getaway after robbing Gringotts bank, in a good cause. But she had not ridden in a Muggle aeroplane before.

In some ways it was a lot better: in the enclosed cabin she wasn't exposed to the elements, and she didn't have to worry about losing her balance and falling hundreds of feet to the ground. But there were problems.

Ron was sitting right beside her, and was probably going through a lot of culture shock right now, because although he had ridden plenty of broomsticks, he wasn't used to Muggle machinery. The catch was that she couldn't talk to him, without several dozen Muggles listening in. They had them packed together like sardines. There was a loo, but it was barely large enough to accommodate one person, and the pair would definitely look strange trying to go there together.

Of course she knew how to cast a Muffliato spell, which would dim the hearing of the bystanders around them; she had done it many time while hiding from Voldemort. Her wand was concealed in a special pocket of her jeans. But Hermione thought of Muffliato as an offensive spell, justifiable in danger but not as a matter of mere convenience. The best Ron and Hermione could do was write notes to each other and destroy them afterwards. Even that was complicated by the fact that they had to use pencil and paper, when they were used to using quills and parchment.

Unable to communicate, Hermione was left to brood on the reasons for her aeroplane flight, which were not pleasant.

Almost a year before, Hermione had had a big problem: how to get her parents out of the British Isles, out of Voldamort's range, while she herself stayed behind to help Harry Potter. Since her parents were loving and protective, she couldn't persuade them to go – until she cast an amnesia spell on them. Oblivious to her existence and large blocks of their own past, her Mum and Dad had gone off to Australia. Hermione couldn't even keep track of where they had gone, being busy covering her own tracks from Voldemort's thugs. Only now, with Voldemort dead and Kingsley running the Ministry of Magic, was she free to get things back to normal.

She had planned to go it alone; after all this was her responsibility. But of course she had talked to Harry and Ron about it; she almost never concealed anything from them.

Ron had offered to come with Hermione to Australia, while Harry had insisted on staying behind in Britain. Neither gave full reasons for this arrangement, but Hermione suspected that she knew them, and it was another matter that she didn't want to dwell on.

"Attention," said a voice on the intercom. "Prepare for landing at Delhi airport. Seatbelts, etc-"

Hermione perked up. This wasn't their final destination, merely a transfer point. But she had never been through a plane landing ( though she HAD jumped off a flying dragon, which was definitely scarier) and was curious to see how the Muggles managed it.

Seatbelts were a good idea. She wondered why it had never occurred to wizards to put them on broomsticks – though trying to picture the wizards attached to their brooms by seat belts nearly made Hermione laugh.

The plane touched down with a bump, and Hermione found herself thrown forward as the plane shed its velocity on the runway. She hadn't sensed how fast they were going in the air. Wasn't there some scientific theory about that? She really ought to catch up on Muggle knowledge.

The plane finally taxied to a stop. People kept trying to manoeuvre their luggage out, without enough space to do so. Hermione didn't have that problem; she had packed everything in her Bottomless Handbag.

The message board in the terminal, fortunately, was in English, though most of the symbols were international anyway. Ron was looking flustered. "Our flight to Australia leaves in 2 hours," she said. "Let's go to the gate, then try to find an unoccupied area to talk. I hope we don't have to go through security again – I had to put a "Confundus" spell on the guards in London to keep them from searching my handbag, and I hated doing that to innocent Muggles. I wonder what a Bottomless Handbag would look like on an X-ray scan?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. I've never seen an X-ray machine until today."

They were able to reach the gate without complications. Hermione spotted a fairly unoccupied area where she thought they could speak without being overheard.

"You OK, Ron?"

"Yeah, I'm just getting used to a lot of new things at once. I'm starting to agree with Dad—"

"Your Dad?"

"He said one of the things that most mystifies him is how do aeroplanes stay up in the air?"

"I don't know. Something called aerodynamics. For that matter, why do broomsticks stay up?"

"Er – I dunno. I just sit on them." He chuckled.

"I think I'll have to take that attitude toward aeroplanes, and not worry about it. We need to talk about what we'll do when we reach Australia."

"I'm going to find a nice bed and go to sleep in it."

Hermione bit back the first reply that came to her. "Right. Not only has the plane trip been tiring, but we'll have jet lag to contend with."

"Do you mind sharing the same room, Hermione? It'll be cheaper."

Hermione knew what lay behind that request. Arthur Weasley now had a well-paying job, now that so many Voldemort sympathizers and pure-blood bigots had been purged from the Ministry of Magic, but for most of Ron's life his family had had to be careful about costs. She wished Ron had stated a different reason for wanting to share the bedroom. But Ron had not mentioned getting closer, not since – she put that thought out of her head. "Ron, we spent months in a tent together! Of course I won't mind."

"OK."

"The next day we'll visit Newcomers Limited. That's the company that was supposed to help my parents relocate. Hopefully they can tell us where Mum and Dad are. Then I can – I can—" Suddenly Hermione found herself crying.

Ron hugged her and let her cry on his shoulder. "Blimey, what is it? I thought you WANTED to find your parents."

"Yes – but – but – putting an Obliviate spell on them and letting it stay for a year was a horrid thing to do. Suppose they hate me when I restore their memories and they realize what I've done." The thought of her parents hating her made the tears flow stronger

Ron was silent for a moment, stroking her hair. Finally he spoke. "I can't predict how your parents will react, Hermione, because I don't know them that well. But I can tell you this. I will always love you. And so will my family, and Harry, and Neville, and Luna."

It sounded like cold comfort – that the hatred could still be there. It wasn't like Ron could speak for her family. But it was honest comfort, and that was what Hermione needed.

It was time to proceed to Australia.

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Domestic Arrangements

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 2 Domestic Arrangements**

The bellboy showed them to the hotel room, confused by how little luggage they had – most of their belongings were in Hermione's Bottomless Handbag. When they finally were in the room and had some privacy, Hermione started to _"Accio"_ Ron's things out.

"Don't put your wand down near anything electric," she advised. "Electricity and magic don't mix. I found that out on my first summer holidays."

Ron looked around at the electric lamps, the phone, the television. "So much weird Muggle stuff in here. I wish we could have found a place like the Leaky Cauldron to stay."

"I don't think Australia HAS places like the Leaky Cauldron. I checked old Ministry records – few wizards have ever emigrated to Australia, or to the States for that matter. They preferred to stay put in their little British towns, where they could protect each other. Of course there could be wizards and witches among the aboriginal population-"

Ron put up his hands. "OK, OK, I didn't mean anything complicated. I just have to get used to it." He stared at the television as if he was afraid it was going to bite.

Hermione finished with Ron's things, putting them on one of the beds. There were two large beds in the room, and she took it for granted that she would claim one and Ron would have the other. She and Harry had shared a bed once in their tent - and that had had some consequences that she definitely didn't want to think of now.

"I'd like to take a shower," she said. "Do you need to use the loo first?"

"Yeah, thanks."

She summoned her pyjamas out of the handbag and waited, wondering exactly how much distance to keep between herself and Ron. They had pretended to be husband and wife while registering – they were just old enough to bring that off – and if the hotel staff was suspicious, they probably thought Hermione and Ron were lovers. Were they?

Hermione shook her head. The wondering was hurting her brain.

There was a time, the crucial day of the Battle of Hogwarts, when she and Ron had finally expressed their feelings for each other. When Voldemort was defeated, Hermione had looked forward to excited romance without a cloud over their love. But she and Harry had felt honour-bound to reveal that they had –

"All right. I'm done," announced Ron, interrupting her thoughts.

"Thank you."

She went into the loo and undressed. Before hopping into the shower, she looked at herself in the mirror, and tried to imagine how sexy she would look to a boy, something she usually didn't worry about. Definitely she was no Fleur Delacour Weasley, but then Fleur was supposed to be part Veela or something. Did it matter? Hermione believed that being clever was better than being pretty, and there was something else more important than both, for which she didn't have a word. The quality in Lupin that had won Tonks' love, inspiring her to look beyond his poor health, social isolation, and the whole werewolf business.

_Why kid yourself, Hermione? If Ron is being standoffish, it has nothing to do with whether or not you look sexy. You know perfectly well why._

There had been a night, during Ron's absence, when Hermione and Harry were trapped alone in the tent by a snowstorm, and had to huddle together in one of the beds to stay warm. The proximity, on top of other things – terror of being captured, frustration at how their quest was going, sheer lack of contact with any other human being, adolescent hormones, and sexual curiosity – had been too much for them, and they had -. On the morning after, they realized what a mistake they had made. Hermione loved Harry, but in the way that she would have loved a brother, and it had felt like incest. They never tried it again.

When Ron came back, they had to pretend that nothing happened. They had a locket containing part of Voldemort's soul, and it had tried to arouse hostility among the three of them. It wasn't until after Voldemort was dead that Harry and Hermione could confess the truth to Ron and Ginny.

The Weasley siblings had taken it remarkably well. Ginny forgave Harry outright, and Ron stayed friends with Harry and Hermione. But their tentative romance had been ruined.

Later that evening, Hermione looked over at Ron from her bed. At least he had been willing to come on the trip with her, and to share a room as they had during the quest. Maybe they could get together again, but it would be slow, and Hermione had to concentrate on the bigger problem now, of finding and rescuing her parents.

The next morning, the pair caught a taxi through the streets of Sydney to the offices of Newcomers Limited. Ron insisted that Hermione handle the "Muggle money" and pay the cabbie – which was silly, because Australian dollars were as foreign to Hermione as they were to Ron. But she kept her mouth shut about that trivial complaint.

Hermione walked up to the counter of the agency. "Hello, my name is Hermione Granger. I'm looking for Mrs. Wendell Wilkins."

"What is your connection to the couple?" said the lady clerk. She had what Hermione considered a Cockney accent. Most wizards at Hogwarts, except for Hagrid and a few students like Seamus from Ireland, talked or acquired RP British.

She couldn't very well say that she was their daughter. "I'm a, ah, cousin." Hermione did not lie very well.

"We promise our clients some confidentiality. Can you prove the relationship?"

Hermione muttered something about having left the documents at home, and retreated back to stand with Ron. "Damn, I didn't anticipate this. What'll I do?" Harry had mentioned a trick Dumbledore used once, showing a blank piece of paper and hexing the Muggle into reading things into it. He had learned the trick from somebody who called himself The Doctor. But Harry was in the British Isles, Dumbledore was dead, and Hermione had no idea how to find Doctor Who-ever.

Ron had been thinking along different lines. "I suppose we'll do what we always did at Hogwarts. Wait until nightfall, and break into the files."

Hermione had to suppress a chuckle at Ron's bluntness. "I suppose so. We better scout out the place first, then."

She looked around the room, trying not to seem too curious. Her attention was drawn to a tall blonde woman who was staring back at them. Her hair was drawn into two large buns.

Hermione turned to her companion. "Ron," she whispered, "do you see the lady with the Princess Leia hairdo?"

"The what?"

"The two things at the side of her head." Hermione had to remember that Ron didn't get most Muggle references. Maybe when this was all done with, she'd persuade him to go to the cinema with her.

"Oh, yeah. Why?"

"Two things. First, no Muggle woman would be caught dead in a hairdo like that. It's like some of the weird getups wizards use to pass themselves off as Muggles."

"But you said there weren't many wizards in Australia."

"Exactly, that's why I'm suspicious. Number two, she was staring at us."

"And number three," said Ron, "she's running away."

Hermione turned to see the woman disappear through the office's entry door. She dashed after the suspicious woman – and found herself in an empty hallway. The woman was nowhere in sight.

Had she slipped very quickly through another door? Or, if she was a witch, had she teleported out? And had she heard Ron's remark about breaking in?

This was getting to be a lot more complicated than Hermione anticipated.

TO BE CONTINUED

_(Author's Note: the story about Harry and Hermione giving in to sexual temptation during the quest is from a previous story of mine, ALL ALONE IN THE WORLD. The magic blank document was used in HALF-BLOOD PRINCE but was originally invented on DOCTOR WHO, where it is known as the "Psychic Paper". And I'm using that idea without permission, too)_


	3. Burglary and Theft

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 3 Burglary and Theft**

"Couldn't find them in the phone book", brooded Hermione, lying down in the hotel room bed. "Either they moved out of Sydney, or got an unlisted number for some reason. I suppose we will have to pry into the files, but I don't like the idea. It's not like we're fighting Voldemort or Umbridge. These are innocent Muggles."

"But we're not hurting anybody," said Ron. "If we handle it right, they won't even know that we were there. I'm more concerned about this Princess Lala lady."

Hermione grinned slightly at his mistake but didn't bother to correct him. "I suppose we can ask people back home about her. We're not in hiding this time around."

"But how will we contact them? We don't have an owl, and even if we did, we couldn't make it fly halfway across the world. I don't think we can send Patronuses that distance—"

"Patroni" corrected Hermione automatically. This one she wasn't about to let slip past her.

"We're not on the Floo network, and we already know we can't Apparate that far. So how do we reach them?"

"I was thinking of using the phone."

"Oh – but who would have a phone on that end?"

"Kingsley. He's lived undercover with Muggles, protecting the Prime Minister. He gave me his number before I left." She looked at the room clock. "About 5:30. That would make it 7:30 in the morning in London. I hope he doesn't mind getting called this early." She picked up the room phone and started working through various operators. This was probably going to add a lot of Australian dollars to their bill.

"Hello, you have reached the residence of Kingsley Shacklebolt. I am currently—"

Hermione left a message on the answering machine describing the appearance of the odd woman and asked if Kingsley or the others had useful background information. Then she had to explain to Ron what an answering machine was.

"It may take hours to get an answer back," said Hermione, "so I suppose once it gets dark we can carry out the other plan. Fortunately it's winter here, short days." Having cold weather in June was topsy-turvy to Hermione, but she had gotten used to a lot of odd things in her life.

They decided to Apparate this time, now that they knew the destination. Hermione stood behind Ron and embraced him, to avoid the danger of splinching during the teleportation. They hadn't been this physically close together since teleporting to Hogsmeade with Harry, the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. That déjà vu made Hermione think about Harry. She thought it was no accident that Harry decided to stay behind on this journey. He deplored that night in the tent as much as Hermione did, and was hoping that Ron and Hermione could get together again.

Ron showed no reaction to being hugged. This was business. Hermione focussed on Apparating.

They spun around a bit in the fourth dimension, then materialized in the waiting room of Newcomers Ltd. Hermione groped for the light switch, turned it on, and surveyed the area behind the counter.

"They've got both a computer and old-fashioned file cabinets. I hope the information is on paper, because I don't know how to hack into a computer system."

"It might be a useful thing to learn," mused Ron.

"Why am I always the one that has to learn things?"

"Because you're the one that enjoys it."

Hermione climbed over the counter and looked at the file cabinets. The last was labelled X-Y-Z and the one before it, W. She tugged at the handle and found it locked. "_Alohamora"_ That spell had gotten increasingly useless in the Wizard World, with both sides of the war increasing their security. But the Muggle drawer opened immediately.

"Ron, could you put our wands down in the waiting room? I don't want them to muck up the computer system."

"OK."

She looked through the file and found a folder marked Wilkins. The principal form had a "settlement" address blank, something in Sydney. But there was also a "forwarding" address blank marked "Sullivan Sheep Station", with an address in Queensland. Someone in the office had handwritten:

"_Sullivan Sheep Station", A.K.A. the Triple S, is a working sheep farm that also takes in paying guests and organizes activities such as horse riding, on the model of an American 'dude ranch'."_

"A farm?" repeated Ron, looking over her shoulder.

"Mum grew up on a farm," said Hermione. "I should have anticipated something like this. They can't practice dentistry because, as the Wilkinses, they don't have a license, so they apparently had to fall back on unskilled labour. I hope it hasn't been too onerous." She looked at the Queensland address and memorized it.

BANGBANGBANG came a sound from the suite's main door.

"This is the police!" called a voice with an Australian accent. "Open up!"

"Bloody hell!" said Ron.

"Get our wands and let's Apparate out, Ron—where are our wands?"

"I don't know – I put them down right here."

"They're not there now."

"I know that."

BANGBANGBANG. "This is your last chance to surrender peacefully! We know you're in there!"

Belatedly Hermione reflected that a night-time burglary in a large city was quite different from one in a school with a curfew. Somebody presumably saw the light and called the owners of the business, who then called the police. The important thing was that, without wands, they couldn't Apparate out. They couldn't even get stuff out of Hermione's Bottomless Handbag.

Reluctantly, Hermione unlocked the door and raised her hands in surrender. Ron, thank Merlin, imitated her and didn't try to put up any heroic resistance. Two Australian policemen, a man and a woman, barged in and stared.

"Why, it's just two kids," said the woman.

"Maybe, "just" kids," said the other sourly, "but somehow they were clever enough to break in here without leaving a mark on either the outer door or the office door. You two, lean against the wall and let us search you."

The pair submitted, but aside from Hermione's handbag they didn't have anything incriminating on them. The police were going to be quite bewildered if they tried to look inside the handbag. The male policeman made a speech, presumably the Australian counterpart of the British "caution" or the American "Miranda warning."

"Let her go," said Ron. "I dragged her into this."

Hermione wanted to hug him, which of course was not advisable under the circumstances.

"Maybe so," said the woman, "but she's here now, and so both of you are under arrest. "

"Handcuff them together," ordered the other.

The police forced them out of the room and building, and into their vehicle, with Hermione's left wrist shackled to Ron's right one. The chain didn't really matter, compare to the other dismal features of the situation. The two were going to gaol, and could neither Apparate out nor magic themselves away in any other fashion. They had no convincing story to tell in their defence. Their closest allies were half a world away. And once somebody opened Hermione's handbag, as they were likely to do in search of evidence, some powerful and secret sorcery would be revealed.

Ron was probably more frightened than Hermione. He had little experience of civilized police restraints; to him, gaol meant Azkaban and dementors.

The police car pulled up in front of an old brick building, presumably the local police station. The officers ordered the young wizards out of the car, pressed them toward the building – and suddenly fell to the ground unconscious.

"What the-?" cried Ron.

"Dunno," said Hermione, hastily picking up her handbag. "Or maybe I do - YOU!"

The woman with the odd hair had suddenly appeared a few feet away.

"I hated that," she said in a low firm voice. The accent wasn't Australian but wasn't entirely British either; Hermione couldn't place it. "They were honest officers protecting the public, and you two are a pair of fools. But there are secrets that have to be kept." She took a stick out of her blouse.

"You stole our wands!" Ron said angrily.

"Here's one of them back, so you can teleport out of here. I'm keeping the other to examine. Now stay out of trouble, because I don't ever want to come to your aid again."

"But—" started Ron.

"Ron, some other police are coming out to see what happened!" warned Hermione, looking back. "It'll look like we assaulted some officers – a felony! Let's get out of here!" 

She tried to hug him for Apparation, complicated by the fact that her right hand was chained and her left was holding the returned wand. The pair materialized in their hotel room, and sank back on one of the beds, still handcuffed together. It had been a narrow escape – and Hermione still wasn't entirely sure what had just happened.

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Those who Fight and Run Away

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 4 Those Who Fight and Run Away**

"_Alohamora,_" chanted Hermione. The handcuffs unlocked themselves and fell to the floor. She picked them up and, after a moment's hesitation, put them in her handbag.

"You want to SAVE them?" asked Ron in surprise.

"Not really. But we need to do something with them. If the hotel staff finds police-issue handcuffs in our room, or even in the dustbin, they're likely to get suspicious. " She stared at the handbag. "Actually, maybe I should get them out once in a while and look at them, as a reminder."

"Of what?"

"That we're still in chains, in a way. Ron, you and I grew up breaking a lot of rules. We had to, because Voldemort had to be stopped and the Ministry was incompetent. But it's OVER. It's time to trust in society to handle its problems and stop playing the hero. Harry was right to renounce two of the Hallows."

"I see what you mean, Hermione. But let's be practical for a minute. Do you think the Muggle police could still catch us?"

"They don't have many leads to go on. They didn't get our names, and only two of them saw our faces," She thought back over possible clues. She had gotten a lot of practice covering her tracks, while hiding from Voldemort. "The agency may tell them that an English girl named Hermione Granger was turned down during a visit earlier in the day, and knowing that, they might inquire at hotels for the name. And I don't know if I left fingerprints behind."

"If they think we knocked out two of their aurors, and they don't know how we managed it," observed Ron, "they'll probably do everything they can to track us down. I think we'd better get out of here. Though I know it sounds cowardly to say so."

Hermione was touched by the combination of Ron's common sense and his desire to appear _macho_ in front of a girl.

"There's no point in staying here anyway, now that we know my parents are in Queensland," she said, implying that leaving was perfectly reasonable, and not cowardly. "And it's that mystery lady's fault that the police got zapped. I wish I knew who she was. She wanted to EXAMINE our wands, so she's not a witch, but she has powers of her own – enough to steal our wands when we were just a few feet away. I'll check with Kingsley before we go."

Kingsley did answer the phone this time, which was gratifying. He was a busy man, trying to push through extensive reforms at Azkaban, but he made time for Hermione. "It sounds to me like this woman is a witch living "under the radar", as Muggles put it," he said on the phone. " No account at Gringotts, no attendance at Hogwarts, avoid buying a wand from Ollivander, who remembers all his customers. Voldemort's maternal relatives did that."

"That would explain why she was curious about our wands. But isn't there a spell that detects the birth of every witch and wizard? That's how the Wizard World originally found me, after all."

"Yes – but it's possible that some wizards have discovered how to shield their children from the spell."

"Maybe we can catch this woman and find out – though my instinct is to avoid her."

"Follow that instinct, Hermione. Confronting a witch who doesn't want to be found is dangerous, and not your problem. I'll discuss your story with some of our Aurors."

After finishing the conversation, Hermione and Ron changed clothes – the officers might have described what they were wearing at the time of the arrest. After checking out of the hotel, they took a cab to the Sydney railway station. The lady at the information looked at the address Hermione showed her and advised them to take a train to Brisbane, after which they might have to catch a coach or even hire a car to get to the farm. What was worse, the train would not leave until the next morning. They would have to wait at the station – and separately, because the police were looking for a suspicious couple. Hermione wished they had brought the Invisibility Cloak or some Polyjuice Potion, but who would have thought that they would run into danger?

Of course, they always did.

The one advantage was that jet lag was in their favour. Their biological clocks were still set to daytime and they felt little tendency to fall asleep during the night in the station. Hermione bought an educational-looking book on Australia in the station's souvenir shop, and divided her attention between reading it and looking out for police.

By the time they got on the train, they were exhausted. But they found a fairly empty corner that would let them talk privately. They weren't packed in as they were on the aeroplane.

"It'll be an all-day journey," said Hermione as the train started moving. "Like the Hogwarts Express."

"Good," said Ron. "Because if the police aren't on the train now, we're safe for hours."

"They could stop the train for a search," Hermione pointed out. "Remember the dementors coming on board during third year? Or the story Luna told, about being kidnapped off the train last year?"

Ron looked worried. "At least we'll get some minutes warning. Hermione, let's plan things out while we've got the free time. For one thing, we shouldn't give our real names out again."

"Right." She had a suspicion that when Ron said "let's plan" he really meant "Hermione will plan". She pondered and started thinking aloud. "The note said that the sheep station is modelled on an American dude ranch—"

"I'm not familiar with the idea," said Ron.

"It means it rents out lodging and supplies for tourists who want to ride horses and pretend that they're cowboys and cowgirls—"

"But this farm raises sheep, not cows."

"Right, and that probably makes it less exciting. Not our problem; we just need to figure out how to fit in. I learnt to ride horses a couple of years ago during summer holidays; what about you?"

"I've ridden brooms in lots of Quidditch games. I also rode the thestral to the Ministry for Magic, and the dragon when we were getting away from Gringotts."

"Not the same. Brooms are controlled by magic, and on the thestrals and dragons we basically flew wherever the animals took us. On a horse, you have to guide it with the reins."

"Then I don't know how."

"Maybe that's for the better – try this idea. We pretend to be a newly married couple. We're honeymooning on the dude ranch because I'm crazy about horses. You, my new hubby, agree to take riding lessons to humour me. And while you're taking the lessons, I have an excuse to wander about, and I can look for my Mum and Dad."

Ron looked displeased. Maybe he didn't like horses, or maybe he was annoyed about playing the decoy while Hermione was doing the exciting stuff. "And if the police come?"

"We brazen it out. Officer, you've got the wrong people. We're Mr. And Mrs. Blah-blah. And we can make ourselves less recognizable if you dye your hair something other than ginger."

"And cut your hair to make it less bushy."

Hermione winced. She had worn her hair long for years, ever since starting Hogwarts "I suppose so."

"What about Princess Lala?"

"Hopefully she won't be after us. She got what she wanted the last time, your wand. And she definitely doesn't like us."

"All right, sounds like a plan." But he frowned at the mention of the lost wand. Wands meant everything to a wizard; without them they could not do the simplest daily task. She remembered how she had dropped her wand during a rainstorm, gotten soaked to the skin, and couldn't even get dry clothes out of her handbag. Or how Harry had broken his wand during the encounter with Voldemort in Godric's Hollow. For boys the wands seemed to have even more significance. She had read some psychology, and wondered if male wizards considered the wand a phallic symbol, a stand-in for the penis. No matter how close she was to Harry and Ron, that wasn't something a girl could ask a boy.

_When we get home, if we haven't retrieved the wand, Ron can get a new one from Ollivander. He owes us a favour, after all. _

And she could loan Ron her wand in an emergency. But somehow it did not occur to her to offer, just now. Girls could get possessive about their wands, too.

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Talking it Out

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 5 Talking it Out**

"Gerroffame!"

"W—what?" stammered Hermione, disoriented. They were still sitting in their seats in the rail car, but time seemed to have passed. The view out the window no longer showed cityscape but countryside, including some tree species that she had never seen before. Her body felt stiff, and her bum felt like it had been stuck in one position for a long time. She must have fallen asleep.

Ron, obviously, hadn't. His ginger hair was as wild as Harry's always was, and he was glaring at her.

"What's wrong, Ron?"

She realized afterwards that that was the wrong thing to ask. Ron was evidently the sort of person who couldn't fall asleep in a sitting position, and – she remembered from the tent – he got cross when he was physically uncomfortable. But by asking the question, she was forcing him to examine his frustrations.

"Wrong?" he repeated grumpily. "Lots of stuff. This was supposed to be a simple expedition, to rejoin your parents and fix the memories that YOU mucked up. Now we've got the Australian police after us, and I've lost my wand, and I haven't slept for nearly a day. And you were laying your head in my shoulder, as if I was a human pillow or something, so I couldn't move for fear of waking you up." He made the last sound like the ultimate imposition.

"Sorry."

"Is that how you and Harry started out?"

"Me and Harry?" Suddenly Hermione caught on, and turned red. "So THAT's what this is about. You said you'd forgiven us!"

"Yeah. Really picked the right moment, you two. I'd just lost my brother, and Tonks, and Lupin. For a while I thought I had lost Harry. I had just seen my mother kill somebody. Compared to that, what you two did in bed didn't seem to matter so much. But it does."

She gave a hasty look at the other passengers, but they were several seats away and did not seem to be listening. "Ron, I tried to get your attention for a couple of years, but you ignored me and kept chasing after Lavender-"

"Actually, Lavender rather chased me."

Hermione didn't want to get sidetracked into a discussion about Lavender Brown. "Whatever. My point is, you didn't have any claim on me. If you cared what I did, why did you walk out on us? It felt like Harry and I were against the universe, and even our best friend didn't believe in us."

"Me believe in you and Harry?"

"No. Believe in US – the three of us, our friendship, our love! The us that kept Voldemort from grabbing the Philosopher's Stone, found the Chamber of Secrets, rescued Sirius Black. We've done so much good together!"

There was a long silence, during which Hermione was terrified what thoughts might be going through Ron's mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft.

"Yeah. There were two betrayals involved. Mine came first."

"What Harry and I did wasn't payback, Ron!" Hermione was frustrated that he might have misunderstood her motivations. "It was a matter of hormones and sexual curiosity, and it was stupid of us. After months hiding away, not speaking to a single soul outside our tent for fear that any leak would get to Voldemort, I don't think either of us were thinking too clearly." That was a huge admission for Hermione to make.

"Including me," Ron said ruefully. "I broke up the group, and the result was that I ran into Death Eaters and you two ran into Voldemort. And left you two with the weight of the world on your shoulders. It was all a mess."

"Not ALL a mess, because we did defeat Voldemort in the end."

"But still – all right, Hermione, I promise to stop obsessing about it. You forgave me for my desertion, I should forgive you what happened afterward."

"As long as we're being honest with each other. I'm glad we thrashed that out."

"Yeah, Harry hoped—" Ron hesitated.

"Harry hoped what?"

"He said he wanted us to get back together, and it would be easiest without him around."

"Do you think-?" There was a flutter of hope.

"I think we should not try to force the issue, Hermione. Concentrate on finding your parents, and on dodging the people who are after us."

"Right." That sliver was soon crushed and Hermione didn't feel any better.

On finally reaching Brisbane, Ron and Hermione checked into a hotel near the railway station. They were Helen and Robert Walker, newlyweds – Ron had thought it a good idea to preserve their initials so they wouldn't forget their aliases.

"OK," said Hermione, when they got to their room. "And I think we should get in the habit of using our aliases with each other, so we don't slip up later. I remember in the Ministry when I called Harry by his real name – It could have been disastrous if the situation weren't already mucked up."

"Good idea, um, Helen."

"And now for the sheep station."

She used directory assistance to get a phone number for the farm, then dialled it direct – they were going to run up phone charges again. When they answered, she put on her act. She was Helen Gordon Walker, bride from England (She didn't think she could fake an Australian accent convincingly). She was fascinated with the idea of going to a dude ranch for her honeymoon, but the place she had planned on was closed for the winter – she had forgotten the reversed seasons in the Southern Hemisphere, how silly of her. Could Sullivan Sheep Station take them at the last minute? She implied that if this choice didn't work out, she would cry.

The receptionist put her on hold, then finally came back on. Yes, they were open, and there were plenty of vacancies due to being off-season. They would make a couple of reservations for Mr. And Mrs. Walker.

Hermione hung up, and Ron looked at her in admiration. "Wow. I never realized that you could act so stupid, 'Helen'."

She snorted. "I guess that's a complement." Actually Hermione realized that she had been unconsciously channelling Lavender Brown, with that girl's invariable heart-on-the-sleeve. "Next stop, Sullivan Sheep Station. Hopefully, last stop."

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Stalking at the Station

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 6 STALKING AT THE STATION**

"Sullivan Sheep Station," announced the motorcoach driver, and Hermione and Ron got up from their seats. It was very fortunate that the Station lay on a motorcoach route, since neither of them knew how to drive a Muggle car. Ron had said he could learn, having flown a car to Hogwarts, but Hermione remembered how he had ended up crashing into the Whomping Willow, and insisted on taking the coach.

They had used up much of a day in Brisbane improving their guises. Hermione had realized that the lack of luggage made them look suspicious, so they had bought a pair of suitcases for show. She had also reluctantly gone to a hairdresser's, and had them cut off much of her hair and style the rest into a pageboy cut. She had nearly cried as she watched her locks fall around her,

Ron was easier to disguise: she just used a repetition of the spell from their invasion of Gringotts, getting rid of the freckles and the attention-getting red hair. Part of her was jealous that Ron didn't have to make a permanent, drastic change. Yes, her hair would grow back, but it would take a while. She hoped that she could find a hair-grow charm when they got back to England.

There was a long driveway from the highway to what was presumably the central building of the complex. In England a farm of this size would probably be an old manor, such as the one the Malfoys lived in. Here in Australia it was more like a successful business.

In the surrounding fields Hermione saw sheep grazing and, in one field, horses. Some workers were starting to herd flocks together, because it was getting toward sundown. It might have looked pretty under other circumstances, but Hermione was not looking for prettiness; she was looking for her parents. She looked intently at every human figure she saw in the fields. She wanted to finish their work and get out of Australia before either the police or the mystery witch caught up with them.

At the main building Hermione found the main office, mainly a more expansive version of the "front desk" they had encountered in hotels. She did most of the talking, afraid that Ron might give himself away through his lack of acquaintance with Muggle customs. Meanwhile she tried to spot as many people around the office. Her parents were not in that group, either.

Could they simply ask if a couple called the Wilkinses worked here? But Hermione could not think of a pretext at the moment, and of course if asked her parents would not know a bride named Helen Walker – or a girl named Hermione Granger.

While they were processing paperwork, Hermione "drifted" over to look at a map of the property. Her heart sank. The station covered several square kilometres! Not surprising in a country with this much empty land, but her parents could be anywhere on the map! How could she possible cover so much territory?

On a horse, of course.

"I'd like to go riding tomorrow," she spoke up.

"Certainly, Mrs. Walker. We can have a mount ready for you at the stables at 9:00. Any preference in horses?"

"No." Hermione wasn't interested in the horse per se; it was a means to an end.

"And you, sir?"

"I don't know how to ride horses," Ron said sheepishly.

"Many visitors don't when they get here; we can arrange lessons if you like."

"Okay."

"We'll reserve two horses, and a trainer."

So they would be separated tomorrow. Hermione hoped that, if Ron encountered her parents, he would be able to recognize them. He had met them once several years ago, when they brought Hermione to Diagon Alley – such an innocent time, it seemed in retrospect, even though she had been paralyzed by a basilisk later that year. She had also shown Ron photographs that she had salvaged from her house in England.

With the work finished, the clerk directed them to a dining room in back. Everybody sat at a long table, something Hermione and Ron were quite accustomed to at Hogwarts. But the atmosphere was different, because the pair had much to hide, and were careful participating in conversation. Fortunately the talk was dominated by an American visitor, a middle-aged woman named Barbara Agon, who kept yakking about how Americans did things better. Nobody paid much attention to the quiet English couple.

The parents were not among the serving staff.

After supper one of the employees guided them to the "bunkhouse". They had a small room, austerely furnished in comparison to the hotels, as might be expected in an institution whose guests prided themselves on "roughing it". There was a small table, and a wardrobe. No plumbing; the loo and baths were shared facilities, down the hall.

And one bed.

"Um," said Hermione.

"Maybe we can ask for an extra cot," suggested Ron.

"We're supposed to be newlyweds, Ron! They'll think we've had a spat." She stared at the bed again. "We'll just have to share. I trust you not to take advantage of me, Ron."

"I won't. But it's going to feel bloody awkward, lying beside a girl."

"I can put up a shield charm. Put some imaginary distance between us, at least." Harry had offered to do that, and she had turned down the suggestion, with fateful consequences. But she didn't want to share that detail with Ron.

A couple of hours later Hermione, carefully covered in T-shirt and jeans rather than usual pyjamas, climbed into bed next to Ron, suppressing feelings of deja vu. She tried to get her mind off the immediate situation by focussing on the mission, and then found that almost as depressing.

"I'm scared, Ron."

"Of me?"

"No, of course not. Of me and what I've done. My parents don't seem to be on the clerical staff. Suppose I suppressed memories of skills they could have used to get good jobs? Suppose they've had to shovel horse dung for months, or something else equally nasty? What if they hate me once I've restored their memories and they remember what I've done?"

"Hermione, there wasn't any other way to do it. You needed to get your parents out of England for their safety, and they wouldn't leave without you. Stop flogging yourself about how you worked it, and concentrate on solving the problem."

"I suppose so. I'm glad you're with me, Ron. I don't think I could face this alone."

"Me? I haven't contributed anything so far. Just followed you around and let you do all the thinking. And tomorrow I'm going to have to make a fool of myself, riding an animal with no magic to help."

"Just be there for me now, please."

"I can't be much more there than I am now, can I?" asked Ron lightly.

On impulse, Hermione turned to kiss her loyal friend on the cheek, but the Shield Charm was in the way, and she bumped her nose on her own force field. Fortunately Ron didn't notice the gesture.

The next morning, the staff took the guests down to the stables. Ron was not looking happy: for the next few hours he would be taking riding lessons, a chore that he was not particularly interested in, and would be stuck with Muggles without a wand or a Hermione to rescue him from social gaffes. They were joined by the loud Mrs. Agon, and by a new guest who had just arrived that morning, who gave her name as Mrs. Arwen. She didn't seem to "get" the dude ranch style: she was wearing a bland pants suit topped by a huge Mexican-style sombrero. Yet when they got inside the stables, she looked over the horses discerningly and eventually picked what one of the stablehands declared the best mount. Hermione fidgeted. To her the horse was just a convenience to get her around the property quickly, yet there seemed to be a general expectation that the three women would stay together. She wondered how to get rid of the other two without arousing suspicion.

Fortunately an opportunity presented itself. As the three women rode clear of the stable and the neighbouring sheepcote, Mrs. Agon admired the view. "It looks like we have wide open spaces to ride in." Hermione expected her to add that spaces were wider and opener in the States, but she didn't. "How about we have a race?"

"I would prefer not to," opined Hermione.

Mrs. Agon turned in her saddle to stare at Hermione's form. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"What? No, I'm – just now married." She had been about to say "not".

The other laughed. "Marriage and pregnancy aren't particularly related nowadays."

"I'll race you," said Mrs. Arwen suddenly.

That got the American's attention off of Hermione. All the girl had to do was chant "Get ready, get set, go!" for them, and they were off, and Hermione was finally alone with her horse. She turned her mount's head toward a cluster of buildings nearly half a mile away. Could her parents be working there?

At one point she turned her head and spotted the two racers. To her surprise, Mrs. Arwen was riding like the wind, leaving Mrs. Agon far beyond. It wasn't that the American lady was a poor rider, but that the quiet newcomer was a superlative one.

Hermione turned her attention back to her mission. The cluster of buildings turned out to be for storing seeds for the coming spring; few people were there, and none of them her parents. She rode to a second area where some workers were clustered on horseback, but they warned her not to get in the way of farm business. Once she satisfied herself that none of them were her Mum and Dad, she apologized and rode away.

As the morning progressed, Hermione was getting frustrated, and her legs were starting to tire of their position astride the horse. What was worse, she felt a need to visit a loo. Reluctantly she turned back toward the stables.

There are far less people around now; presumably the workers had all distributed to their duties and the guests were enjoying the wide open spaces. There was one middle-aged woman in jeans, unloading a cart and carrying a bag of tools toward a shed attached to one end of the stables. Just before she went inside, Hermione got a look at her face.

_MUM!_

Hermione hopped off her horse and ran toward the shed without even trying to secure the animal. She drew her wand from her hidden jeans pocket, and charged through the door.

Mum stared at her. "Who are you? I'm sorry, but you can't come in here, this is for station business—"

Hermione had known that her mother would not recognize her, but the sheer incomprehension on her mother's familiar face rattled her. Steeling her nerves, she raised her wand to cast the crucial spell.

TO BE CONTINUED

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I described Hermione's interest in horses in an earlier story, HERMIONE ON HOLIDAY)_


	7. Victory and Defeat

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 7 VICTORY AND DEFEAT**

Ron was feeling intimidated. All of his life he had known, of course, that there was a big world out there dominated by Muggles and their culture, but he had been largely sheltered from it. At home, at school, in Diagon Alley, he was surrounded by fellow wizards and witches. Even on the camping trip he had been largely confined to the tent; it was Harry or Hermione who set out to explore nearby towns.

Now he was travelling through a large country in which the only witches in sight were Hermione and a mysterious enemy, and he was doing it without a wand. He saw what Muggles had accomplished with no magic at all, while he felt helpless without his magic skills.

It didn't help that he knew that Hermione was a lot more clever than he was. Almost 7 years ago he had called her a bossy know-it-all. And though he had learnt to love her in various ways, she still was rather a bossy know-it-all. She kept the remaining wand and the Bottomless Handbag because she knew better how to handle them (Besides, Ron would like silly carrying a handbag around, in an environment where he was supposed to look macho).

And there was the disturbing sexual angle. Ron had matured a lot during the past year; and he didn't feel jealous of Harry; they had gone through too much together. (Ginny, explaining her quick forgiveness of the pair, had admitted that "if it was any girl but Hermione, I'd put an awful curse on the bitch"). Nor did he feel that Hermione was "damaged goods" because she was no longer a virgin. He wasn't that old fashioned in his thinking.

The basic problem was that in some ways, Harry seemed to be Hermione's natural mate. Ron had come across the Muggle term "alpha male". Harry, the hero who had brought down Voldemort, was definitely an alpha bloke, and Hermione, the best student in their year, was probably an alpha girl. How could Ron compete? He felt like a beta male, or maybe a gamma or a delta, if the scale went down that low. Hermione had confessed that she wasn't thinking clearly when she bonded with Harry, and for Hermione that was a humiliating admission. But if she really wasn't thinking, didn't that mean instinct had drawn her to Harry?

Ron felt a little sick at the idea. He had always wanted Hermione to be instinctively attracted to him.

This morning was the nadir of his recent existence. He was taking riding lessons in which each mistake could be seen and commented on. The only other pupil was an 11-year-old girl named Cherry who had come to the Station with her parents. To Ron, that was like being classed with a First Year.

"Cherry, you're going too fast," said the trainer.

Ron roused himself from his funk to look at his surroundings. Cherry had been riding her horse around a ring. Apparently carried away with the thought that she had a powerful animal under her control, she had urged her mount into a gallop. But riding fast in a circle was not a good idea. She was edging close to the fence.

"LOOK OUT! Use your reins, turn to the right."

Cherry panicked and jerked back on the reins convulsively. Her horse didn't like that. It stopped its progress, but started bucking wildly.

The trainer dashed out, and so did Ron. The boy managed to get behind the horse just as it bucked Cherry off its back altogether.

Ron caught the girl and they fell down into the dust together, but she was safe.

It was his Quidditch skills that had saved the day, Ron realized: quick reflexes, the ability to plan motion in three dimensions to make contact, and a sense of when a rider was or wasn't balanced. In some senses there wasn't that much difference between a broom and a horse.

Cherry let out a string of curses, with effusive thanks for "Mr. Walker" mixed in. The trainer was shaking Ron's hand. Some station workers who had seen the incident from a distance came over to congratulate Ron. Suddenly he found himself being hailed as a hero.

At that point a woman screamed.

The sound came from the direction of the stables. Everybody dropped what they were doing and ran toward the building, ordering Cherry to stay behind. The stable itself held nothing but horses, but somebody noticed the door to the "tool shed" open. Ron followed the others in.

Hermione was there, and a middle-aged woman who struck Ron as vaguely familiar. Both were trembling, and glaring at each other warily.

"That girl threatened me with a gun!" shouted the older woman.

"I didn't! I didn't!" cried Hermione, but her nervousness was evident and probably made her look like a liar to those who didn't know her. "You can search me if you like, there's no gun."

"I think she threw it in that corner when she realized people were coming," accused the other, pointing at a pile of tools.

The trainer looked through the tools. "There's no gun here."

"Then maybe she still has it. You've gotta search her."

"We can't just pat down a guest like a criminal," said one of the station employees.

"I'll do it," said a new voice. Ron turned to see an odd-looking woman in a big Mexican sombrero. She had apparently entered while their attention was on the two quarrellers.

"Go ahead," said Hermione.

Mrs. Arwen ran her hands along Hermione's body, and seemed to be doing a cool, efficient job of it. "There's no weapon."

"OK, then, now let's everybody calm down," said the trainer.

"Can I go?" Hermione asked faintly. She looked obviously strained. "I need some air—"

"Certainly."

Ron escorted Hermione outside. It wasn't Ron's idea of fresh air – the smell of manure from the stables was rather pervasive, but Hermione's mind was clearly elsewhere. She threw her arms around Ron and started crying. "Oh, Ron, Ron, it's so horrid—"

"It was just a misunderstanding, Hermione," he said soothingly.

"You don't understand, Ron. That was my Mum! And I didn't have time to put the restoration spell on her. And I've lost my wand; I had to throw it among the tools so people wouldn't get suspicious. How can I straighten anything out without my wand? My God, I've mucked everything up—"

No wonder she was so distraught. To have one's own mother accuse one of being a criminal!

"Do you think it's some sort of poetic justice, for putting the spell on them in the first place?" Hermione asked in dismay. "That I'm fated never to get it cancelled—"

"Hermione, let's calm down and look at it practically. The first thing we need to do is get your wand back. I don't think we should go back to the toolshed right now; it'll look suspicious. We'll try later in the day. Maybe I should do it; nobody is suspicious of me. For now, let's get back to our room to relax."

They walked toward the bunkhouses. Hermione said her horse was wandering around somewhere but she was too stressed out to try retrieving it. As they were there, they heard other hoof beats behind them. They turned to see a mild-mannered man dismount from a horse. "Excuse me, I must speak with you."

Hermione turned even paler. Ron, searching his memory for the face, realized that this was Mr. Granger. "I'd like to, but my wife is feeling a bit ill—" he said to get Hermione away from the scene.

"You talk to him, please, Ron," said Hermione. "I'll go lie down."

She went off slowly. Ron turned to the amnesiac dentist.

"I must apologize for my wife," said . "We'll probably get sacked, for making wild accusations against a guest, but I wanted you to know where Monica was coming from."

_I know exactly where you come from, a lot more than you do_, thought Ron.

"My wife has some memory problems," said Mr. Granger. "Not lapses, but false memories of things that didn't happen. In particular there's a recurring memory of a young woman pointing a weapon at her and shooting at her. So when your wife barged in the toolshed and seemed to be pointing something at Monica, my wife panicked."

Ron realized that Mrs. Granger's "false" memories were actually "true" memories leaking through. Apparently Hermione's spell had not been completely successful. "I understand. Her – Helen mistook your wife for somebody she knew. I don't know what she had that your wife mistook for a gun," though he knew perfectly well. "I'll try to put in a good word for her, try to help you keep your jobs."

"Thank you, Mr. Walker."

Ron continued toward the bunkhouse. Something more to worry about.

He looked in on Hermione in the room. She was lying in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Ron decided to give her space.

Spotting her handbag, and realizing that it would be difficult to get things out when neither of them had a wand, he knelt on the floor, turned the bag upside down, and tried to empty it by shaking. An amazing number of things came out: several heavy books that Hermione had probably brought along for light reading, jeans and T-shirts for both herself and Ron, Hermione's old prefect badge and a red/yellow Gryffindor tie from her school uniform, an embarrassing collection of Ron's underpants, and some feminine items Ron didn't know the name of. They made quite a pile on the floor, and Ron was even then not sure that he had gotten everything out. He was afraid to stick his hand in the bag and feel around. He moved the items to the wardrobe temporarily.

By evening Ron had persuaded Hermione that she had to eat; she had already missed lunch. When they crossed over to the main building and went into the dining room, he was surprised by the effusive welcome he received from the other guests. Hermione's misadventure had driven out of his head the day's other big event: how he had caught Cherry when she fell off of her horse, but her family had not forgotten about it. The hosts served Hermione and Ron an extra big dessert, saying it was on the house. Ron was careful afterward to follow up on the good will, telling the management that they did not want to make any complaint against "Mrs Wilkins".

When they got back to their room it was getting dark, and Ron told Hermione that he would try to get her wand back from the toolshed. She wanted to come with him, but agreed it would not be a good idea to be seen in that area.

It was quite dark as he walked across the field to the stables. The stars were out, and they looked strange to him. Belatedly he remembered why: this was the Southern Hemisphere, with no Plough or North Star but numerous stars that weren't visible from England or Scotland. With no city lights or British clouds competing with them, they were also brighter than usual. He wished he remembered more Astronomy, but the most he could recall was amusing Lavender with the hoary pun on "Uranus".

The smell of manure got more pervasive as he got near the stables, and Ron realized that in addition to staying out of sight, he also had to watch his step. Wouldn't he feel like a hero if he saved the day twice only to end it by stepping in a stray pile of horse droppings?

He got to the toolshed without mishap. It was unlocked, and afterwards he realized this should have been suspicious. At the moment he was just relieved, because he could not do a _Alohamora_ charm without a wand.

He remembered the pile of tools that the horse-trainer had searched earlier in the day after Mrs. Granger had pointed it out. He knelt on the floor and started rummaging through the tools for an ornamental piece of wood.

"Are you looking for this?" asked a sarcastic voice.

Ron turned to see the sombrero lady holding a wand. Except that she was no longer wearing the silly sombrero. Apparently she had been using it to hide her odd coiffure, with the hair pulled out on the sides.

It was the mystery witch again.

TO BE CONTINUED

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Plough is the British term for what Americans call the Big Dipper constellation)_

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Personally I hate the alpha male/beta male theory, so I arranged for Ron to get depressed by it)_


	8. From the Elder Days

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 8 **

**FROM THE ELDER DAYS**

"Who are you?" Ron demanded.

The mystery woman stared at him, as if examining his soul and evaluating it.

"I'll tell you. You showed yourself to be a hero, this morning. But not here, I prefer to talk on my own territory."

"I'll get Hermione." He made a motion to move, but the woman stopped him.

"No. I said I'd tell YOU. Your lady friend has made all sorts of errors lately, and I don't think she's worthy."

Ron was tempted to protest the insulting judgement of Hermione, and insist that she be included. But the mystery woman might hold back and refuse to give the information, which might be important.

"Get a horse from the stable and we'll ride to my site," the woman said before Ron could verbalize a response.

"I've only started lessons today—"

"I'll hex it to follow your wishes."

Ron followed her to the large main door of the stables. Either the woman knew _Alohamora_ or had an equivalent spell, because the door soon came open. Ron looked reluctantly at the horses in their stalls.

"I can't just take a horse without permission. They haven't assigned me a permanent one—"

"Conscientious of you," the woman said flatly; Ron couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or admiring. She pointed. "That mount was assigned to your lady friend, you can take it."

The woman saddled Hermione's horse, with quick motions that implied that she had long experience handling horses. Ron led it out of the stable and hoisted himself up on its back; he had learnt THAT much. The woman led her own horse out and mounted it quickly. "I've put the hex on your horse and you need only will it to do what you want. But you must respect its nature. Do not will it to exert itself in unnecessary galloping, or perform tricks."

After seeing Cherry's near-accident this morning, Ron wasn't inclined to do anything tricky. "Lead the way."

During the day Ron had been able to see for miles across the plains. But now at night he could scarcely see anything but the hindquarters of the horse in front of him. Perhaps the mystery lady wanted it that way, so that he could not later retrace his path afterward. She made several turns that seemed to have no reason except for to confuse his sense of direction.

"We're here," the woman said suddenly. "Get off your horse and let it graze. It won't wander away."

Ron obeyed. At first he saw nothing distinctive at this point of the field and had not been conscious of leaving one area and entering another. Yet there were subtle differences – the stars seemed to shine more brightly, crazy as that sounded. In the meantime the woman conjured up a flash of light, and a fire started burning on the ground. Ron sat before the fire, wondering what was going to happen. Definitely they weren't just going to sit around the campfire singing "Waltzing Matilda".

"Do you know why witches are different from Muggles?" the woman asked.

"Born that way."

"Yes, usually to witch parents. I mean, the ORIGINAL cause."

"No," admitted Ron, rather surprised that he had not pondered the question before. Hogwarts had been founded almost a thousand years before; Ollivander claimed his ancestors and predecessors had been in business since the time of Rome, and presumably witches and wizards were older than that..

"Millenia ago, a few Wizards came to this world. I don't mean wizards in the modern sense; they were a different order of being. They came to fight a Wizard who had turned evil and tried to set up an empire covering the world. When he was at last defeated, they departed. But one of them had lain with a mortal woman, and she bore twins."

"The descendants of the Wizard discovered that they had inherited some of his magical power. Eventually they started shunning ordinary men and married among themselves. Since they had developed healing spells, their children escaped most of the illnesses bedevilling humans, and multiplied. You are among their descendants – you are amused at something?"

"It's just that the Malfoys and others used to boast about their "pure blood". According to you, we STARTED as half-bloods."

"Much of the ancient knowledge has been lost among moderns. For example, goblins were once known as dwarves. They changed their name, but retained their love of gold, their preference for underground dwellings, and their skills as smiths."

Some of this was sounding oddly familiar, yet nothing to do with the History of Magic taught at Hogwarts. "What are you?" he asked bluntly.

"I am an Elf."

Ron snorted. "Don't be silly. Elves are only half human size, and very self-effacing."

"Degenerate modern elves are. I survive from the elder days when Elves were the equal or superior of humans. Though some characteristics have not changed."

She raised her hand pushed back the hair on the side of her head. The tips of her ear were pointed. So now Ron knew why she wore odd hair-dos and hats. He felt a little bad about his comment.

"Why do you stay hidden away?" he asked.

"Because I have my weaknesses."

"Oh?" Ron definitely did not expect her to describe them. He had just been through a war where showing a weakness made one vulnerable to an enemy. But he was wrong.

"I am vulnerable to the feelings of others, and especially to the feelings of wizards. If I am ignored, or if evil humans think of me, I am weakened. I am strengthened by the awareness of a good human. Have you ever heard the legend of a man wandering the night looking for an honest man?"

"Yeah. Do-Jones or something."

"Supposedly he is the ancient philosopher Diogenes. But I think he is a male of my species looking for somebody to believe in him."

"Somebody must have believed in you, because you strike me as awfully formidable."

"Thank you. Fifty years ago, an English scholar came across old records of the Elder Days. He organized them in the form of a long novel."

"Wait! " shouted Ron, suddenly realized why all this sounded vaguely familiar. "The Lord of the Rings! Hermione persuaded me to read it one summer, and it DID take all summer. The Elves were really powerful – Elrond and Arwen and Galadriel. Are you saying wizards are descendents of Gandalf?"

"Not Gandalf. Another wizard who was rather more susceptible to women. He didn't get mentioned in the novel. But let me get back to the subject. Most people considered the novel to be simply fantasy, But some wizards saw clues that it was true, and believed that Elves of the old type existed. That gave me power and I was able to live like a normal human for a while."

"But I feared that it would not last," the woman continued. "On the continent, Grindelwald was rising to power, and later Voldemort in England. They hated magical creatures outside of their own charmed circle. Even if they didn't catch me, their hatred would have diminished me if they ever figured out that I was real. So I decided to flee as far from Northern Europe as I could: here, in Australia."

"Why have you been stalking us?"

"I had my eyes out for other wizards coming from England. When you two showed up, I took your wands for clues. Are you aware that wands record the spells that they have cast?"

"Yeah. Priority in Cans, or something like that."

"Priori Incantatem. I had to return your lady friend's wand before I had a chance to test it, however. It would do none of us good if the local police started investigating magical activity, and you two needed it to get away. But I followed you for more clues."

"OK, let me get this straight. You need people to think positive thoughts about you. So you're telling me your story."

"Yes. I knew you were a hero when I heard how you saved that stupid little girl from falling off her horse."

"Um, thanks. But what about Hermione?"

"She is not worthy."

"_WHAT? _Hermione is one of the worthiest people I know!" Ron knew he had to keep his anger in check, but it didn't stop him from getting upset.

"She is guilty of cursing her parents, and she betrayed you by lying with another man."

Ron winced at the latter reminder. "She is trying her best to undo the first problem, and what happens between Harry, Hermione, and me is not your affair." He started wondering about how the elf knew about those things. Good hearing? Or maybe mind reading? But before Ron could ask, she spoke again.

"You are blinded by lust."

To a boy who had shared his bed with a girl the previous night without touching her, that accusation was particularly irritating.

"YOU are blinded by greed. You don't care whether people help their fellow men or not – Hermione helped liberate thousands from Voldemort – it's only whether they can help you by 'believing in you'." Ron rose to his feet, and made sure that the returned wand was in his pocket. "Well, you're not going to get help from me if you're going to exclude Hermione from your plans. I'm going."

He looked at his borrowed horse, wondering how to call it. You couldn't just wave your hand and chant "up!" as with brooms. But the spell giving Ron control over the horse was apparently still in effect, and it trotted directly to Ron. He hoisted himself up in the saddle.

"I forbid you to speak to anybody of this!" shouted the Elf.

A sharp pain stabbed through Ron's mind, but his sense of balance, learned in Quidditch, kept him in the saddle, and he rode quickly away.

TO BE CONTINUED

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Needless to say, I have no more rights to LORD OF THE RINGS than I do to HARRY POTTER. All the credit goes to Tolkien)_


	9. Remembrance of Things Past

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 9 REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST**

Now that he had a wand back, Ron was tempted to Apparate directly to the bunkhouse, not only because it was quickest, but to celebrate that he had his power back. But he also had a borrowed horse to return. Trying to Apparate and include the horse in the spell was not a good idea – what if he wound up at the stables with only part of the horse? He would have to get back the hard way.

He had lost his sense of direction during the ride out; which way was the Station? Looking around him, he saw dim lights in the distance, visible only because the intervening land was thoroughly flat, and because his eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness. The Station was the only institution within kilometres. Ron directed his horse in that direction.

It took nearly half an hour to get back the stables. It took nearly that long to figure out how to unsaddle the horse without aid and get it back in its stall; somebody would get suspicious if he did not. Finally he got out Hermione's wand and performed the _Relashio_ charm to loosen the bonds. For the first time in his life, he felt embarrassed that he had to use magic to get something done.

Finally – his watch said after 1 AM – he got to the door of their room at the bunkhouse, and turned the key.

WHOOSH. Hermione ran into his arms and hugged him tightly for nearly half in minute. Then she backed up and started punching him.

"Ron, where the HELL have you BEEN? You've been gone for HOURS. I was worried SICK. Even went out to LOOK for you, even though the whole IDEA was for me not to be SEEN."

"Gerroffame!" Ron took a deep breath and tried to explain about the Elf, but the words would not come. The Elf really had put a magical prohibition on him. Thinking fast, he said, "I, um, did something stupid, Hermione. I was so glad to get the wand back that I did some spells, then had a lot of trouble eliminating the evidence so the Muggles wouldn't notice. Here's your wand."

Hermione took the wand and seemed to accept the explanation. That was embarrassing, that she found a confession of Ron's stupidity very plausible. "Oh, all right, I'm sorry. I was just worried for you. I – like you a lot, Ron." She gestured toward the bed. "Let's get some sleep; we need it after such a horrid day."

"I'd prefer to take a shower first." It occurred to Ron that after all that riding, Hermione might detect a horsy smell, particularly with them lying next to each other.

"Considerate of you."

Ron went off to the men's shower room. Afterwards he examined himself for a moment. Wouldn't it be cool to walk in on Hermione like this? He was sure that he would look more virile than Harry—

Things were too complicated to open that can of worms. He put on his replacement clothes.

When he got back to the room, Hermione was already in bed, apparently asleep. Ron climbed in on the other side. He noticed that Hermione had neglected to put up her Shield Charm this time. Either deliberately or instinctively, she must have decided to trust him not to touch her against her will.

KNOCKNOCKNOCK

Hermione and Ron both jolted awake, colliding with each other in the confines of the bed. Ron looked at the bedside clock: after 9:00. They had overslept, after the anxiety and exertions of the previous day.

"Oh, damn, I'm not presentable," Hermione moaned. "Could you answer it, Ron, and get rid of them?"

Ron walked to the door while Hermione carefully stood out of the line-of-sight. But it was not a visitor he could get rid of. It was Mr. Granger.

"Oh. I'm sorry if I'm – ah – interrupting something," he said. Presumably he thought they had been making love. "I just wanted to tell you the news. They've agreed to wait until Monica can see a doctor about these memory spells. In the meantime, Monica will perform duties that won't involve meeting the guests. I wanted to thank you for putting in a good word."

"You're welcome, sir. Why don't you come in for a few a minutes?"

"I don't want to intrude – " but Mr. Granger came in anyway. A reasonable request from a guest was probably to be considered a command. Ron shut the door behind them.

"_FINITE_!" yelled Hermione from the corner, pointing her restored wand.

Her father fainted, but Ron was in a position to catch him. "Hermione, what's happened to him-?"

"I don't know – I haven't undone a spell on this scale before. Lay him out on the bed." She sounded terrified that something had gone wrong. Ron realized grimly that the nearest experienced witch or wizard was thousands of miles away – unless you considered the Elf, which Ron was reluctant to do.

Mr. Granger's eyes fluttered open. "Where am –" he looked around vaguely. "Minnie? But what happened to your hair? And you look older—"

Minnie? Ron had never heard anybody call Hermione that before, but he kept his mouth shut. This was between Hermione and her dad. He wondered if he should walk out altogether, but Hermione might need his moral support.

"It's summer 1998, Dad – summer in England, I mean. A lot's happened. You've had amnesia."

"Amnesia?"

"Yes. I can explain, but first I need to cure Mum, and talk to you both. Dad, do you remember being a Mr. Wilkins?"

He spent a long time thinking. "Yes. It's strange, I remember being Mr. Granger AND Mr. Wilkins."

"Please try to concentrate on being Mr. Wilkins long enough to arrange a meeting between Mum and me. Both she and the Station personnel want to keep us apart."

Ron had been staying in the background up to now, but he had an important thought. "Perhaps it's best to arrange the meeting in the evening. People will be less likely to spot you together, or notice that everybody is behaving oddly."

Hermione made a face, but nodded. "Good idea. In the meantime we can arrange to leave as soon as possible afterward, and get back to normal life."

"Normal life?" repeated Mr. Granger. "I don't know what normal life is anymore."

Eventually he felt healthy enough to rise and go out again, promising that he would bring Hermione's mum to the "wool storage shed" at 6:00 that evening. Ron and Hermione stared at each other.

"You didn't tell him you caused the amnesia," Ron pointed out.

"I know I've got to, but I only want to do it once, talking to both of them." She paused for a moment, biting her lip in thought. " Do you think I'm a coward, Ron?"

"No. I think you're a determined girl who was forced to do something horrid, and you're doing your best to fix it. My advice is, try to embrace the good parts of the situation. We've travelled halfway around the world. We're on a doodle ranch designed to entertain guests. We've got several hours to kill. Why not do something you enjoy? Have a nice meal, go horse riding during the day."

"Okay."

Hermione still looked glum during the late breakfast, but fortunately nobody noticed. Cherry's family was still making a sentimental fuss over Ron; as far as they were concerned, Hermione was just his tag-along wife. Others were mystified because Mrs. Arwen had suddenly checked out and vanished. Mrs. Agon, who had lost a horse-race to her the prior day, declared loudly that the older woman hadn't been up to the "rough life". Ron was, of course, unable to tell anybody, even Hermione, what he knew.

After breakfast they went out to the stables. Ron offered to ride with Hermione. He had only had a day's lessons, but he thought the magical rapport with a horse accustomed to being guided by humans had taught him what to do.

"That's odd," said Hermione after a few minutes riding. "My horse seems tired. I wonder if somebody else has been riding her after hours? I thought it was reserved for me. Oh, well, I'll just be careful not to do anything strenuous."

Ron tried to look bewildered. He hoped that somebody else wouldn't get in trouble for his secret ride with Mrs. Arwen.

He scanned the surrounding fields, trying to locate the area where he and Mrs. Arwen had sat around the campfire. But the whole place looked too different during the day, and besides, the Elf may have disguised the area. Had she really left, or just gone into hiding? Ron was not anxious to run into her again. In fact, he would be glad to never see her again, except that it would be nice to get his own wand back.

Eventually they reached a grove of trees, and Hermione decided to give her horse a rest, while they sat under a tree. Ron had never seen a tree quite like it; Hermione said it was a eucalyptus, native to Australia.

"Ron, is there a girl?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"What?"

"I know I don't have a right to ask, since I lied to you on the subject, but I was wondering – you were gone for several hours last night, and somebody has been using my horse. This is a vacation place, after all. I wondered if you had found a girl and gone riding with her, and – other things."

"There's no girl, Hermione." That was the truth, the Elf was too formidable for Ron to regard her as a 'girl'. "And I'm not going to conceal anything from you as payback - we agreed to put that behind us!. Do you want to know how far Lavender and I got?"

"Um, I WAS wondering—"

"Not too far. Frankly, I was flattered for a girl to throw herself at me the way she did, but it would have been wrong to take advantage of that. And SHE never proposed it. It was puppy love on her side - all "Won-won" and drawing valentines."

"So you've never—"

"No. Though I'd thank you not to repeat that to anybody."

Hermione was looking very thoughtful as they got back on their horses. And for Hermione, that was saying a lot.

Eventually evening approached, and the crucial meeting time. Ron insisted that they eat an early supper – it was possible that things would get very frenzied, and they might not get a chance later. They asked direction to the wool storage shed and found a place to hide.

At exactly 6:00, Ron heard familiar voices approaching, and they emerged into view.

"Mrs. Waters?" Hermione's Mum said in puzzlement. "But I don't understand."

"It's going to be all right, darling," said Mr. Granger, stepping behind her.

Hermione was trembling, nearly dropping her wand. Ron hoped that she got the spell out before she panicked.

"_FINITE!"_

Mrs. Granger crumpled just as her husband had, but the man caught her. They took her inside and laid her on a stack of wool to make her comfortable. She began stirring after a moment.

"Um – what happened? Minnie?"

"I'm here, Mum."

The older Granger woman stared at the younger in bewilderment, then focused on the wand.

"It was you who made me brainsick for a year! My own daughter cursed me! How could you? You little _BITCH!"_

TO BE CONTINUED


	10. Debate

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 10 DEBATE**

Hermione was stunned: not so much by her mother's anger, which she had expected, but the way it was expressed. In her experience, her mother rarely used coarse language, and had never directed it toward her daughter. But that was before she had spent a year suffering from memory problems and supporting herself with no sophisticated job skills. And whose fault was that? Hermione could think of no way to defend herself.

But Ron could. "Look, I know you're her parents, but I'm not going to stand and hear her insulted like that."

"I don't know you are," said Mum, "but this is a family matter."

"I'm Ron Weasley, and as far as I'm concerned, Hermione IS family."

"You're married?" Dad asked, sounding shocked.

"Uh, no."

"Sleeping together, more like it," said Mum. "Our daughter has turned into a whore."

"Darling, please calm down," urged her husband. "At least let's let Minnie explain things."

"I had to get your two out of the country," pleaded Hermione. She felt tears prick her eyes. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. "I was afraid the Death Eaters would target the families of rebels, and I was right. Luna was kidnapped to keep her father quiet. They tried to scare Neville by grabbing his grandmother, but she fought back—"

It turned out to be an unfortunate argument. Not only did Mum still look hostile, but Dad looked concerned with what he was hearing. "And what was the wizard government doing about all that?"

"The Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry."

"A government run by people who call themselves Death Eaters and target innocent people?" said Dad in horror. "Sounds like something out of Nazi Germany."

"It was." Neither wanted to remember the things they saw but both Ron and Hermione had to push away memories of all the things they saw.

"Darling," said Dad, turning to his wife, "Perhaps we shouldn't blame Minnie. She's been exposed to a corrosive environment for years. I only wish we had realized it at the time, we could have – "

"The whole wizarding world wasn't 'corrosive'," objected Ron angrily. "Lots of them fought against Voldemort. Some of them sacrificed their lives, including one of my brothers."

"I beg your pardon, then, I shouldn't have said corrosive," Dad said politely, seeming a little embarrassed at his comment. "But it definitely sounds like a situation that pushed people to extremes of behaviour. Including our Minnie. We should have gotten you out some time ago, but perhaps there's still an opportunity to make things right."

"What do you mean, make things right?" asked Hermione with a chill.

"You can rejoin the normal world, Minnie – the Muggle world, as you call it."

"But it's not necessary! The fight's over, Voldemort is dead. The wizards can live peaceful lives again."

"It's still not right," said Mum. "You have exorbitant power, Minnie, far too much for an adolescent to handle. A wave of a stick, and a Latin phrase, and you were able to warp our lives for a year. Personally, I'm willing to forgive you, as your father urges. But you shouldn't have all that power at your disposal – it's dangerous to everybody else."

"Fortunately there's a way around it," said Dad. "You need the wand to focus the power, don't you? If you just break your wand—"

"BREAK MY WAND!" repeated Hermione in horror. A broken wand was a wizard's ultimate nightmare. Hagrid's wand was broken after the Ministry mistakenly thought him responsible for the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. Ron had nearly broken his wand in Year 2 and Harry during the camping trip; both boys were disproportionally devastated. "I can't." She shook her head.

"But if you just think about the possibilities, Minnie—"

"I HAVE been thinking about wizards and Muggles, for years!" protested Hermione. "I admit wizard society had flaws that made them vulnerable to Voldemort_." It had taken years to get rid of the befuddled Fudge, and the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry with shocking ease. _ "It's because they've been out of touch with Muggle society, since before the Enlightenment. Locke, Voltaire, Rousseau, Franklin – none of them are part of the wizard's culture. Right, Ron?"

"Um, I don't know who any of those blokes were," admitted Ron reluctantly. Hermione hated putting Ron in the role of the Dumb Wizard, but she had a crucial point to make.

"It's crucial that Wizards learn from Muggles. I'm a Muggle-born, educated on both sides; and I've earned a lot of respect. I can help expose Wizards to Muggle ideas about running a modern society." _Starting with the notion – two hundred years late – that it was wrong to hold intelligent beings as slaves, as wizards do to elves._

But Mum was shaking her head. "You're dreaming, Minnie. You're just seventeen—"

"Eighteen!"

"Sorry, I missed a year – and whose fault is that?"

Hermione winced, but she had to admit that shot was deserved.

"You've been flailing around trying to rescue us – and I do appreciate your loyalty," Mum admitted. "But doesn't it prove that you're scarcely mature enough to transform a society?"

"Somebody's coming!" warned Dad.

The quartet dodged into hiding as a couple of farmhands went into the shed and emerged with stacks of wool.

"I don't think we can keep standing here arguing, considering that you and Minnie are not supposed to even be in contact," Dad commented to his wife.

"No. We need to talk about our future. I think, now that we have got our skills back, we should be winding up our duties here. We'll give two weeks notice – the owners deserve that, for refraining from sacking me."

"Agreed."

"When we leave the station, you can come with us, Minnie – but only if you leave your wand behind!"

TO BE CONTINUED


	11. Debate II

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 11 DEBATE II**

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just wanted to point out an odd coincidence. I had Hermione cut her hair short because it made sense in the story; then I read the Emma Watson actually did have her hair cut very short the same month!)_

Once her parents were out of sight, Hermione Apparated with Ron back to their room. They could have walked the short distance, but Hermione did not want to run into people who might see how upset she was.

She sank down on the bed, exhausted. She had finally obtained the goal she had sought for weeks, reversing her spell on her parents, only to be confronted by a completely new dilemma, her parents' demand that she choose between them and the wizard world.

She could see how the blow-up was her fault. For years she had glossed over the darker aspects of the wizard world when talking to her parents: the obstacle course that nearly killed them on the way to the Philosopher's Stone, being paralyzed by the basilisk, getting whomped by an angry willow tree, and so on. Now she was paying for it, when her parents discovered its flaws all at once and developed a completely negative image of what the wizard world was like. It would be very difficult to convey how Hermione loved the wizard world, even with all of its flaws.

"So you think we're a bunch of trolls, do you?" Ron suddenly cut into her thoughts.

"What? I didn't say that."

"You did. You talked about how we were so stupid because we haven't read Volsseau and Routaire and the others, and needed to be educated by Nanny Minnie. Then you turned to me as Exhibit A."

"That wasn't the point I was trying to make, Ron. Ben Franklin and the others, they devoted their lives to studying how society could be made better. No slavery, no torture, respecting people's rights. The wizard world needs to be familiar with those ideas Here in the wizard world Umbridge felt completely free to torture a kid with that horrid blood-pen - it was like something out of Kafka!"

"Cough who? Never mind, I don't want another lecture. It's been obvious for years that you're the cleverest of the lot, 'Minnie'. I suppose I should have realized that it worked the other way around, too: that you thought everybody around you was stupid. Well, I'm not the one who got in bed with a friend of the opposite sex and lost control."

"So we're back to THAT."

"I suppose so," said Ron, starting to sound sadder and less angry. "When I first agreed to come along with you, I thought it would be a holiday, a chance to mend things without Harry and the others doing well-meaning meddling, But you simply can't stop being the boss. Let me use the wand, Ron. Let me keep the handbag, Ron. Take riding lessons with a First Year, Ron, Pretend we're married, but don't touch."

"You want to 'touch' me? See my breasts? Pat me on the bum? Go all the way? I'm willing." It would be so convenient if Ron's objections could be traced down to sexual frustration, because Hermione had a cure for that.

"You needn't be sarcastic."

"I'm not being sarcastic. I'm offering, Ron."

"And you think I'll accept an offer in those terms? No way. Though I can see how you made the mistake with Harry. Too much thinking about sex and not enough tenderness."

_He's right – why can't I think about sex the way most other girls seem to, as making love? Not thinking of sex as a tool to handle my personal relationships._

Ron, standing silently, was apparently pursuing a different line of thought.

"Maybe the real problem is we simply need to separate for a while. We've been in each other's presence almost continually since we got to Australia, even in bed. I need to prove to myself that I can function on my own, in Muggle land. I'm not deserting, as I did back in the tent. We can agree to meet again in a few days. Maybe you could use the time to make up with your parents, without my being a distraction."

"Well - OK."

Ironically it was Hermione who wound up making the practical arrangements for the separation, being more familiar with the Muggle world. She called the motorcoach company to see when they would drive by; Ron could catch it back to Brisbane. She divided the funds in half, and hoped Ron could figure out the Australian dollar. She made sure Ron could use a phone and place a call to Hermione's room at the station in an emergency; if not, they would rejoin in Brisbane. The other guests would probably think the "newlyweds" had had a spat, but Hermione was past caring about popular opinion.

Once they had split up, Hermione sat in the room, and soon found it intolerable – too much unpleasantness had happened in here. Nor did she want to hobnob with the other guests, which would require her to conceal her emotional turmoil. Finally she walked to the stables, requested a new horse, and simply galloped away as fast as she could, as if she could ride away from her problems.

About a mile away from the stables, Hermione reigned in her horse, and looked around at the open spaces. Suddenly it occurred to her that she was more alone than she had ever been in her life.

Hermione was not used to be physically alone Ever since starting at Hogwarts, she had either been with her dorm-mates or with Harry and Ron. On holiday she went to the crowded Burrow, where she usually wound up bunking with Ginny. Summers with her parents. Even at Grimmauld Place, where she could easily have claimed an empty room of her own, she had chosen to share the boys' sleeping quarters.

But the worse part of her alienation was mental. Harry, Luna, Neville, and the other Weasleys were thousands of miles away in the British Isles. And neither Ron nor her parents wanted to speak to her at the moment. The self-consciousness of being the cleverest of the lot, as Ron had put it, had always been lessened by the love she felt for her friends and family.

She needed to put the solitude to good use, examining herself. Could she sacrifice her wizard side and settle down as a Muggle girl with her parents? Or, on the other hand, risk alienating them forever by choosing to stay a witch? Could she suppress the "bossy" side of her nature and convince Ron that she really loved him and wanted what was best for him?

But at the moment, it was getting dark, and it was a bad idea to ride over unfamiliar country at night. She hoisted herself back into the saddle and rode back to the buildings. In her room she picked up a change of clothes, and walked to the ladies' shower room. Partly she needed it: she had worked up quite a sweat during the frenzied ride. Partly she needed the symbolic washing off, hoping the water would wash away some of her mistakes and leave her feeling pure.

She had barely wrapped the towel around herself when she was aware of another woman in the shower area. She tried to ignore her – the guest may have heard of the departure of her new hubby, and might want to empathize. Hermione was in no mood for girl talk, particularly when it would have to be faked on her side.

Then she realized that the woman was fully clothed. And that she was wearing her hair in a certain familiar coiffure that covered her ears. And that she had a wand – the one stolen from Ron.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Hermione lost her balance as her muscles locked up just as she tried to back away. She fell to the floor of the shower room, and her towel fell loose, exposing one of her breasts. There was nothing she could do about it.

Hermione was literally naked in the presence of her enemy.

TO BE CONTINUED.

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hermione at one point refers to Kafka's IN THE PRISON COLONY. In one scene of the story the camp leaders torture an inmate by carving a description of his crime on his body – basically what Umbridge did to Harry with magic)_


	12. Ron and the Punk Girl

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 12 Ron and the Punk Girl**

As kidnappings go, this one seemed to be pretty tame.

The last time somebody had captured Hermione, it was Bellatrix Lestrange, and she had tortured Hermione with the Cruciatus Curse. The pain had been agonizing, and the worst part was the fear that something in her mind would snap, turning her into a permanent near-catatonic like Mrs. Longbottom. But Bellatrix had apparently held something back this time around, not out of any kindness but because she wanted Hermione to be sane enough to pour out information.

So far Mrs. Arwen, or whatever her real name was, hadn't hurt Hermione, except that her bum ached slightly from when she fell on it in the shower room with only a towel as cushioning. Instead she had simply locked Hermione in a small suite of rooms in what seemed to be an old warehouse. She had been careful to take out anything that might serve as a weapon, but she had left Hermione a cot to lie down on, and access to a loo for when she needed to relieve herself. She had brought in at least one meal.

Nor had Hermione been threatened by any sexual assault. Apparently Mrs, Arwen had cornered Hermione in the shower room simply because it was semi-private and nobody was likely to see what she was doing. That Hermione was naked was simply a circumstance. Mrs. Arwen had even Apparated back to the Station and reappeared with Hermione's change of clothes, so she could dress decently.

Hermione's biggest fear actually had little to do with Mrs. Arwen. It was that her parents, unaware of the kidnapping, might assume that she had simply left the Station of her free will, without trying for a reconciliation. Hermione had still not decided how to respond to her parents' ultimatum, but she would never simply have walked out on them.

The suite of rooms had no windows, and Hermione had no idea where she was. She hazarded a guess at Brisbane.

There was a crackling noise as Mrs. Arwen materialized in the other room. She walked in.

"Come with me," she said curtly. "There's something I want to show you."

"Suppose I don't want to see it?"

"Oh, I assure you that you'll be very interested in this. Now, you won't be physically restrained, but I'll have a charm on you, so don't try to run away. You will feel extreme pain if you flee more than ten yards from me, and you won't be able to speak."

She grasped Hermione's arm, in a cold, businesslike manner, and Apparated.

Hermione found herself in darkness – outdoors at night? No, there was a scent and a warmth in the air that seemed artificial. As her eyes adapted, she saw that she was in some sort of restaurant, where lights were kept dim to create an exotic atmosphere.

A waiter brought a couple of glasses of wine, but Mrs. Arwen didn't touch hers, and Hermione refrained for fear that it was drugged (after all, she had done that trick on Crabbe and Goyle way back in Year 2). Apparently her captor had ordered the drinks simply to give the pair an excuse to sit here.

"Look over there," said Mrs. Arwen.

Hermione looked in the corner where she was pointing, and gasped. Ron was sitting at the corner table. Opposite him was the weirdest-looking girl whom Hermione had ever seen. Her hair, brunette, was done up in peculiar spikes all over her head. She was wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt, but apparently nobody had told the girl that you were supposed to start with a white T-shirt when you dyed it. This shirt had apparently been yellow to being with, and that threw all the absorbed colours off. Talk about a punk fashion statement!

But it was the expressions on their faces that most shocked Hermione. A solemn Ron seemed to be pouring out a long speech to the girl, who looked sympathetic. Hermione couldn't hear what was being said, but she could imagine_: My girlfriend doesn't understand me, blah blah blah_. Clearly the girl hoped to become his new lover if she reacted properly to his sob story.

_It can't be. Ron would never – would he?_

_Hermione was tempted to dash to Ron. It may cause her great pain, but it would get Ron's attention, and he would help her – or would he? She had never seen Ron behave like this! And suppose he tried to help her but was no match for Mrs. Arwen's pain spell? She couldn't risk it. _

A waiter came up to the couple, and Ron apparently settled the restaurant tab. The couple got up: the girl was wearing blue-jeans type shorts, except that they were purple, and they had a fashionable tear embarrassingly close to her arse. (With this girl Hermione automatically thought "arse", rather than a politer term such as "behind")

"I've already paid for our drinks," said Mrs. Arwen. "Do you want to see where they go?"

Hermione nodded vigorously. 

They followed the other couple out of the restaurant. Hermione found herself, not outdoors as she had expected, but in an atrium-lobby hotel, with numerous floors visible from the restaurant exit. Hermione caught sight of a sign: BEST EASTERN OF BRISBANE. Ron and the punk girl walked toward the lifts, and disappeared inside one. A few seconds later, on roughly the third floor, Hermione saw the lift door open. Ron and the girl emerged and strolled toward the hotel rooms.

_Merciful Merlin! He's going to her hotel room! Who the bloody hell is that bitch, and how could Ron be attracted to her?_

Mrs. Arwen grabbed Hermione's arm and Dis-Apparated with her. She found herself back in the warehouse.

"You may speak now. Don't expect your friend to come rushing to your rescue," Mrs. Arwen said. "He is otherwise occupied."

"Yes – I saw that—" Hermione stammered, trying to show a stiff upper lip. Then her captor vanished, and Hermione was free to cry.

She remembered her suspicions from last night: that Ron had met a cute tourist girl at the dude ranch, and the two had gone horse-riding for a few hours while Ron was supposedly reclaiming Hermione's wand. They had even borrowed Hermione's own horse for the expedition – that was why it was tired this morning. To be sure Hermione had not seen a girl looking this weird at the Station, but then she hadn't seen the girl's face even now. If she had been dressed as a cowgirl, with a hat concealing the odd hair-do, Hermione might not have noticed her among the guests.

Aside from the fact that it was distracting Ron from a possible rescue of Hermione, should she care?

Hermione had slept with Harry one night, and had lied about it to Ron afterward. She had no right to condemn Ron if he was seeing some girl on the sly and concealing her from Hermione. He was a free agent.

Or was he?

Mrs. Arwen evidently knew something about the punk girl. Could the girl be a quasi-witch, like Mrs. Arwen? Could Ron be under a spell? There were stories about the effects of consorting with a sorceress, though they didn't apply to normal witches. Would Ron be enslaved for the rest of his life if he slept with that girl? Or were the stories just Muggle distortions of what magical women were like?

She had to get out of here and see that Ron was OK. If it turned out that this was a real love affair, Hermione would simply have to accept it, and maybe go throw up somewhere, as she had when Ron dated Lavender.

She went over the rooms in extreme detail now, trying to find any exit or any tool that could break her out.

After a couple of hours she saw something like a ventilator screen on a wall, slightly loose. She tried yanking on it, and it came off. Behind it was not only her wand, but her Bottomless Handbag.

_That was much too easy_, Hermione thought_. A clever captor would put them beyond my reach, or fix the ventilator screen so I wouldn't notice it. Was it even loose an hour ago?_

_Is somebody trying to undermine Mrs. Arwen and help me get away? Or is it a trap?_

_Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Minnie. Get out of there! _

She took the items out of the hole and used her wand to Apparate, meditating on the name Best Eastern Hotel of Brisbane. A few seconds later she was back in the lobby.

_Now what? Go up to the third floor, try to figure out which room they had gone into, use _Alohamora_ on the door. Unless they set up magical defences. What I find inside might be very embarrassing, but I can be sure that Ron is safe._

_Wait. There she is!_

The girl had just emerged from the room and was walking toward the lift. No sign of Ron. She was still wearing spiky hair and purple shorts, though she had changed her T-shirt. As she emerged from the lift on the ground floor, Hermione saw that the new shirt had a message stencilled on it : I'M MATILDA. WALTZ ME. Something she had probably found in a cheap tourist shop. By Gandalf, this girl had weird tastes.

The girl walked out the hotel's front doors, while Hermione followed. The doorman gave the punk only a brief glance; they must be used to crazy tourists, even in a fancy hotel.

Best Eastern was apparently located on a major thoroughfare. The street was empty for the moment, with traffic held up at a signal half a block away. Hermione noted that the traffic ran on the left side, as in England.

The signal changed, but the girl blithely stepped out in the path of oncoming traffic.

_She must be on drugs. Maybe drugged Ron. I hate her, but I can't let her throw her life away just a few feet from me._

Hermione dashed out and pulled the girl off the street. They fell to the pavement, as the line of cars screeched to a halt and several of the drivers called the girls rude names, with the word Bloody mixed in a lot of them.

"Hermione!" cried the girl. "Thank Merlin you were here. Don't know what got into me – maybe got Wrackspurts on the brain."

Hermione stared. She would know that high-pitched girlish voice anywhere, even in Australia.

The punk girl was Luna Lovegood.

TO BE CONTINUED


	13. In Lunar Orbit

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 13 In Lunar Orbit**

As they helped each other off the pavement, Hermione felt vast relief. Luna was an odd girl, but she was unswervingly loyal to the few people who treated her with respect. She had risked her life to save Sirius Black, a man whom she had never met, simply because she knew he was dear to Harry. Certainly she wouldn't try to seduce Ron.

Thinking back on it, Hermione realized that there was nothing sexual about the scenes she had witnessed. Ron and Luna had had dinner and he poured out his frustrations to her – there was nothing suspicious in that. They were friends, so it was natural that they would talk. Ron had visited Luna's room – Hermione had been on far closer terms with him before. Where had the sexual jealousy come from? Mrs. Arwen had obviously wanted to stir up trouble between Hermione and her friends, but it was Hermione's fault if she fell for it.

"Luna," she said, "I'd love to chat, but we've got problems. I just got away from a kidnapping, and the kidnapper knows some things about you and Ron. I think the three of us need a new hiding place."

The pair rushed to the lobby's ladies' loo – some of the guests seemed to find that funny – and Apparated up to Luna's room.

"Yikes!" said Ron, jumping out of a chair. "Couldn't you have knocked?"

Hermione summarized her abduction as well as she could. "Somebody helped me get away, but I don't know who they were, or how to get in touch with them, so basically the three of us are on our own. You were about to say something, Ron?"

"Ulp, no."

"She's going to look for me again, and she'll guess that I would try to get in touch with you lot. How can you outsmart somebody who can predict your every move?"

"Do something unpredictable," Luna said promptly. It was a very Luna-like answer, and the right one.

"What do you suggest?"

There was a few seconds silence.

"I heard them say there were lots of vacancies in the hotel, because it's off season," mused Ron. We can pick a set of rooms at random, and move into the first empty one we find. The e- Mrs. Arwen will have to search the entire building to find us."

The first room was occupied, but Hermione was able to do a _ Hominem Revelio_ spell and avoid charging in on an embarrassing situation. The next two were empty of humans and Hermione was able to get in with _Alohamora_, only to find people's personal effects lying around. Obviously the renters were out temporarily but would be coming back. Fourth try was the charm, so to speak; the trio went in and locked the door behind them. They moved a piece of furniture in front of the door so that, even if Mrs. Arwen did use _Alohamora_ herself, she would find an unexpected physical barrier, giving them a few extra seconds to escape. And Hermione had a final inspiration. "Luna, will you keep my handbag?"

"Certainly, Hermione. Why?"

"In case Mrs. Arwen seizes me again, at least my possessions will be safe with you." Also, Ron could no longer accuse her of hogging the handbag. "Now that we've bought some time, could you explain how you got here?"

"Kingsley told us that you two were having trouble with local police, and this Mrs. Arwen lady. We wanted to come help, but Harry and Ginny remembered that you wanted to be alone, and didn't want to come unless you called for help. Neville and his grandmother were trying a new spell to cure his parents. That left me."

Right. Luna thought in terms of an inner circle of friends against the rest of the world; the six people who had tried to rescue Sirius: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and herself. Nearly everybody else tended to treat her as rather crackers. Although Hermione had to admit, as much as she liked Luna, that she could be a little bonkers sometimes.

"I redid my hair so nobody would recognize me-"

"You did that very well." Did Luna realize that Hermione had mistaken her for a slut? Change the subject, fast.

"How did you transport yourself?" she asked. Hermione could not imagine Luna tangling with a modern aeroport, at least not without attracting a lot of attention.

"Magic carpet."

"What?"

"A nice jinn-tleman from Arabia gave one to Daddy, after he printed an article about his people in the Middle East. It would give us one free journey."

"You rode a carpet for twelve thousand miles?"

"Oh yes. It's much easier than riding a broomstick. You don't have to balance your bum on a little stick of wood. (Hermione saw Ron look a little embarrassed at that intimate detail). I actually lay down and slept for part of the journey. There was a safety spell to keep me from falling off."

Hermione tried to visualize a carpet flying over Europe, Near East, and Asia with a girl sleeping on it, maybe clad in her purple shorts and tie-dyed yellow T-shirt, like some Muggle girl on a towel at a beach.. Luna was definitely weird.

"And your Daddy let you take it halfway around the world?"

Luna went red. "I, um, didn't ask him."

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around," muttered Ron.

"It was very loyal of you to go to that trouble for us," Hermione said, suppressing her misgivings. "Tell me, do you anything about this Mrs. Arwen lady?"

"No. But I haven't actually seen the lady you're talking about. If I did I might recognize her under another name."

"It IS an assumed name," said Ron. "She's an e- e-e-e eckkkkkkkk-" suddenly he fell down choking.

"Ron!" During the long period hiding below the radar, Hermione had realized the need to be familiar with some emergency medical spells, and had persuaded Mrs. Pomfrey to teach her some after the liberation of Hogwarts. She managed to get him breathing steadily, but he was still passed out. "What happened?"

"I think I've heard of something like this," said Luna. "A gag spell."

"Gag meaning choking, or gag meaning to prevent somebody from talking?"

"Both, I think. But I learnt the counterspell at the time." Before Hermione could stop her, Luna pointed her wand at Ron. "Aga!"

A shocked Hermione held her breath. For every genuine and helpful bit of knowledge Luna had, such as controlling thestrals, there was a crazy one, like her notion that the Minister Scrimgeour was a vampire and his enemies were trying to give him tooth decay in his supposed fangs. Even more scarily, she remembered that Luna's mother had accidently killed herself with a backfiring spell.

But to her vast relief, this was one of the good spells. Ron opened his eyes. "Did I faint again? Seems to happen to me a lot-"

"Do you know what caused it?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I got cursed by an elf. Hey! Elf, elf, elf, I can say it now!"

"I know people who would deserve getting cursed by elves, but you certainly aren't one of them. What happened?"

Ron told the girls about his conversation with the Elf in the fields. It got complicated because Luna wasn't familiar with LORD OF THE RINGS, but she grasped the essential point. "If this Elf wants people to think friendly thoughts about her, she's certainly not going about it properly."

"I suppose she's outlived all her friends – several generations of friends – and sees no point in making new ones," speculated Hermione somberly.

"I think making friends would be worth it," insisted Luna.

KNOCKNOCKNOCK. "Housekeeping!" came a voice with an Australian accent.

"We gotta get out," said Ron. "Don't want a trespassing charge on top of everything else."

"Just a minute." Hermione levitated away the furniture blocking the door. "All right, let's Apparate."

The trio materialized in the car park several floors down. It was dark, smelling of petrol and something worse. Hermione automatically started feeling less sanguine than she had in the nice hotel room. "Look, Luna, do you still have the magic carpet? Will it make a return journey to England?"

"It's in the handbag, and yes."

"OK. I want you and Ron to hop on it and go home. I can't leave Australia until I've settled things with my parents. This is my problem, and I should have handled it from the beginning."

Ron shook his head. "Where the elf is involved, you're as innocent as the rest of us. I'm not leaving you to battle her alone."

"I remember how Ron and Harry refused to leave the Malfoy's dungeon until everybody else was free, including me," said Luna. "I'm staying this time."

"All right," replied Hermione, trying not to cry with happiness. "Let's find another place to hide, and plan."

TO BE CONTINUED.


	14. Life and Art

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 14 Life and Art**

The trio walked along the pavement behind the hotel. Hermione felt very exposed: suppose the Elf was watching them from a distance. What was more, she was worried about Luna, who wasn't used to dealing with Muggle traffic and might walk into the street at the wrong time.

"Look! There's a cinema!" Hermione called.

"Is that good?" asked Ron.

"I hadn't thought of it until now, but it'll be dark in there, making us hard to spot. And even if she DID spot us, we'll be in a crowd, and she might not attack us in public. It'll give us a place to hide and plan for a while."

"Fine with me," said Ron. "What do they do in a cimena?"

She didn't correct his pronunciation. "People look at moving pictures."

"They need a big building for that?" asked Luna. "You can see moving pictures in the Quibbler."

"Not like this. You'll see." Hermione felt a prick of excitement for the two. She hoped they enjoyed the novelty.

With neither Luna nor Ron familiar with motion pictures, it was up to Hermione to choose the film. She didn't know the Australian titles. Some looked like violent action films; she had had enough action for a while. One title looked intriguing: SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE. It was rated M, but all three of them were of age. Hermione bought 3 tickets.

Her original idea was to sit and talk, protected by a Muffliato spell, but she found herself getting fascinated by the movie itself. It was a sophisticated comedy, based on the idea that ROMEO AND JULIET had been inspired by a secret love affair of the young Shakespeare's. Yet some of it had disturbing implications for Hermione. The girlfriend had a "Nurse", a sort of overgrown nanny, who was supposed to be funny but creeped Hermione out for some reason. There was also something spooky about Shakespeare himself.

Then came the love scene. Hermione, who had never seen a movie nude scene before, was startled, and she could only imagine the effect on Luna and Ron. Ostensibly the girl was just exposing herself to her boyfriend, but the actress – something Paltrow – must have been aware that her breasts would be visible to thousands of people throughout the world. Imagine one of her friends, say Harry, taking his clothes off in front of an audience! Actors must lead weird lives.

But what struck her more deeply was the URGENCY of the lovers. They had three weeks available to them before they had to part forever, and they had to make the most of it. That, Hermione realized, was what was lacking in the love life of students at Hogwarts. You knew in advance that your intended was going to be there for months and years, and it took the urgency out of the pursuit. Ron was always going to be there-

Except that he may not. They had not yet decided who was going back to Hogwarts next year; certainly Ron was less fascinated by the schoolwork than Hermione had always been. Suppose he left Hogwarts, and suppose that now he had seen how self-centered she could be, he decided to go his own way and not keep up the friendship? And it would be Hermione's fault if he reached that decision.

"Wow!" said Ron as the closing credits came up. "I've seen moving pictures all my life, but they were always focusing on a few seconds of action. I never thought of somebody stringing it out for a couple of hours and using it to tell a good story. And the Muggles did the whole thing without magic!"

"Ahem," murmured Luna. "Weren't we supposed to be talking about escape plans during the seminar?"

"Damn it, yes we were," said Hermione, almost kicking herself. "I got too caught up in the movie. Oh well, I can buy three more tickets. Unless somebody already has an idea." She hoped so. Not that she minded watching another movie, but now was not the time for them to relax.

"We can go back to the hotel," suggested Ron.

"The Elf will look for us there."

"She probably already has. But since she hasn't found us, she'll assume we've fled elsewhere, and will leave the original hotel alone. Remember what Luna said about being unpredictable."

Reverse psychology, yes. But the trouble with reverse psychology is that the other side may figure out your strategy and reverse it again. She had heard of something called "game theory" that actually systematized all that, but it definitely wasn't taught at Hogwarts.

The Elf was clever, but she wasn't particularly subtle. Reverse psychology was probably not her thing. Hermione agreed that they should go back to the hotel and try to stay out of sight in general. Tomorrow, she had to get back to her parents and try to mend things.

Luna disappeared into the ladies' loo and emerged with her familiar dirty-blonde hair back on, lest the desk clerk recognized a girl with spiky hair and purple shorts, and wanted to know why she was registering twice. She hadn't been wearing the I'M MATILDA – WALTZ ME T-shirt the first time, so that should be safe.

The trio ordered a double occupancy room and one single. The problem was determining how to split up.

"Let Hermione and me stay together," suggested Ron. Suddenly he went red as he realized how Luna would interpret it.

"Oh, that would be nice," purred Luna. From anybody else that statement would have been sarcastic or leering; but Luna was apparently cool with the idea that the pair would be together tonight. It was Hermione who was surprised.

"Ron," she said once the hotel room door was closed and they had privacy. "I thought you wanted some space and time to think, away from me. I know I've been horrid to you throughout this trip, all self-centered."

"I HAVE thought," said Ron, "and Luna helped me get my head on straight. Here's what I realized. Hermione, by rights, YOU should have been the star of the school. Not only were you the brightest student, but you didn't even have the head start the rest of us did. You came out of the Muggle world and immediately started beating wizards at their own game."

"But because of Voldemort," Ron continued, "you weren't the star. Harry was. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. How did you react to being outshone? Did you try to tear down Harry at every turn, like Malfoy? No, you acted throughout as Harry's faithful friend, partly because he WAS your friend, and partly because you realized that the Wizard World needed you two to work together. You're not fundamentally an egoist, Hermione. During the past week you've been obsessed about fixing your parents' memories and trying to get back in a normal relationship, so you've been oblivious to other concerns, like being nice to me. But that's not the normal You. I see that now."

"But I still shouldn't have ignored you ,and in particular I shouldn't have put you on the spot about not studying the Enlightenment."

"Yeah, that WAS weird. I can't count the times you've saved my arse at school by helping me with my homework. I suppose you think that this Unlightenment stuff is different; that it's important for me to KNOW. Not to pass tests in school, but to understand it for myself."

"It IS important, Ron. Some of the greatest minds in history concentrated on how to solve social problems. Slavery, balance of power, the rights of individuals vs the needs of society. They didn't get final answers, but it would still help wizards decide better how to deal with house-elves, with dementors, with rebels like the Death Eaters. I think I can explain to Kingsley and McGonagall how important it is to teach to the next generation. But I'm Muggle-born. Even people who would never utter the word "Mudblood" might think I'm an outsider who doesn't really appreciate wizard traditions."

"Whereas, with the Weasley family behind you, people might listen more."

"Yes."

"OK. I'm still mad at you a bit, but this stuff sounds important, and I'll help. What's the next step?"

"Getting back to my parents, and keeping that bloody Mrs. Arwen off my arse. I want to convince Mum and Dad that this is a good cause. I don't want to break up with my parents for the rest of my life, unless it's absolutely necessary."

Ron thought it over for a moment. "All right. Maybe I can create a diversion, staying in Brisbane and making her believe you're with me. If she thinks you and I are having a wild love affair—"

"If she traces us back here, she'll already notice that we're together. If she doesn't trace us, maybe we've gotten rid of her. The ruse will work either way. Good."

Except for one thing.

Lying in her bed that night, and looking over the gap at Ron lying in his, Hermione wished she and Ron WERE having a wild love affair.

TO BE CONTINUED

_(Author's Note: Hermione was rattled by the Nurse in the movie because she was played by Imelda "Umbridge" Staunton. Shakespeare was played by Joseph Fiennes, whose brother plays Lord Voldemort and whose nephew played the orphaned Tom Riddle) _


	15. How the Other Side Lives

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 15 How the Other Side Lives**

Life was much simpler when they had amnesia, Mr. Granger thought bitterly. Choices in life were more constrained. Under amnesia the Grangers did not know that they had valuable dental skills, and professional certifications. They thought that they had limited options in England and had decided to go to Australia to seek their fortune, eventually taking jobs at a farm. Now there were suddenly a wide range of choices: should they take up their dental careers again? Work in Australia or in England? Fortunately they had already arranged their move to Australia before being hit by forgetfulness, and had dutifully informed patients of their departure. Since people customarily did not see their dentists more than twice a year, many patients might stay loyal if the Grangers went back home.

But a far more worrisome challenge was Minnie. Within a few minutes time, the Grangers had suddenly remembered that they had a beloved daughter, and that the beloved daughter had taken away their memories. It was hard to absorb. Their response had been to blame Minnie's action on the corrupting effects of the wizard environment, but how well did they understand the Wizard World? Minnie claimed that events justified her action, but then she also thought that she could single-handedly change the wizard world. Had Minnie lost her sense of proportion?

On the other hand, could Minnie be right about the possibility of a young girl singlehandedly bringing about change? The Wizard World was not a modern nation like Great Britain or Australia; its entire population was far less than London's. It was a clan of a few thousand people who might personally know each other, or even be related to each other. Maybe an individual could count for more there. Which still didn't justify Minnie's attack on them.

The parents had tried to persuade Minnie to leave the Wizard World altogether. It would mean catching up on a missed modern education, but Minnie was clever enough to absorb a lot of new knowledge in a short time. But instead of answering Yea or Nay, Minnie had simply vanished. For a few frantic hours the parents had feared that Minnie had already made her decision and walked out on them, possibly forever. Yet the station administrators said "Mr. and Mrs. Walker" had not checked out. Had Minnie simply gone off on her own business, not bothering to keep her parents informed? Or could she have underestimated the danger of this Voldemort person, and be in trouble now?

"There's an interesting new guest," Mrs. Granger observed as she and her husband retired for the evening. "Very young, about Minnie's age. I'm not supposed to deal directly with the guests, of course, but I heard her talking while I was working in the kitchen."

Mr. Granger privately wondered whether his wife's interest in the guest might be an attempt to find a temporary Minnie-substitute, but he did not say so out loud. If they couldn't solve their problems at the moment, it was good to be distracted. "What did she say?"

"Well, the conversation started with the awful American woman, Mrs. Agon, complaining again about how boring sheep were compared to the cattle they herded in the American West. Then the girl spoke up and told the most delightful story. About how sheep are really powerful, angel-like beings in disguise, hiding their glory under a bushel, or rather under a lot of wool. If you knew the right magic word, the sheep would appear in its true form and reward people who had been kind to it, or scold them if they had been ba-a-a-a-ad. That got the ball rolling. One guest who teaches English quoted William Blake's "Little Lamb, who made thee", and another, probably a preacher in ordinary life, talked about the religious symbolism of sheep and shepherds. Mrs. Agon was cast quite in the shade. The amazing thing, according to the waiters, was that the girl told the story with a completely straight face. Almost as if she believed it."

"What's her name, in case I see her tomorrow?" asked Mr. Granger.

"I didn't catch her surname, but she called herself Linda, I think. I got a brief glimpse of her – the main features I noticed were long blonde hair and her odd taste in clothes - a big Texas hat and a muslin dress, as if she was trying to imitate two Western stereotypes at the same time."

Mr. Granger was not that interested in seeing the girl. He was on the lookout for Minnie. But by late afternoon the next day, Minnie still had not shown up, and he did encounter "Linda", under odd circumstances.

He was delivering some hay to the stables for the horses, and saw several girls arguing. As he had discovered several weeks ago on taking this job, guests talked openly in front of the hired help as if the help wasn't there.

Apparently one girl was trying to interest another in learning to ride, and was not having much luck.

"I don't know how you can enjoy dealing with those animals," said the newcomer. "I can smell the horse s*** from here, and it's nauseating."

"Actually," said a high-pitched female voice, "it depends on how you look at it."

"I don't know who you are," said the horse-hater, turning around, "but I don't relish looking at horse s*** either."

"I was speaking figuratively," said the high-pitched voice. Mr. Granger saw that she was a young woman with long blonde hair as his wife had described. "Manure is nourishing to plants. I read about a Herbologist who said she had talked to some plants about it. They like it. It seems that dung from some types of animals is sort of a delicacy, and others are more like fast food –"

"Yuck," said the other girl. "I'm getting out of here before you ruin my appetite. You can go talk to your flowers and discuss your favourite types of crap." She stomped back toward the main buildings. The third girl gave the blonde a peculiar look, and followed.

The blonde shrugged and turned to Mr. Granger. "Excuse me, I'd like to hire a horse. Could you tell me how to go about it?"

Mr. Granger pretended not to have heard the preceding bizarre exchange. "I'll take you to the person in charge. Are you an experienced rider?"

"Oh yes. I once rode from Scotland to London. On a thestral, anyway."

Mr. Granger had no idea what a thestral was, but let it slide. He thought it might be some slang word used by the girl's particular horsy set. "Come with me."

After introducing the girl to the employee in charge of renting out the horses, Mr. Granger focused on unloading the bales of hay. He emerged to find the blonde astride on one of the riding horses. In spite of her boasted experience, she seemed to be having difficulty even getting it to walk.

The girl put her hand inside her coat and pulled out a stick. For a shocked moment, Mr. Granger thought that she was going to use it as a riding crop and whip the horse, in plain violation of the rules. Instead she waved the stick over the horse's head. The horse obediently trotted away from the stable, then broke into a gallop.

_Oh my God. The girl has a wand and magic powers; she's a witch. Maybe she knows where Minnie is._

Mr. Granger dashed into the stable and persuaded the manager to loan him another horse. A minute later he was galloping after the girl. At first he was afraid she would see him following her: you could see a long way in the grasslands and a horse and rider were hard to hide. But the girl seemed quite single-minded upon her task and oblivious to everything else. This was not a tourist having a pleasant ride: the girl was concentrating on getting somewhere.

Suddenly she reigned in her horse. By a fortunate coincidence, there was a small clump of eucalyptus trees nearby; Mr. Granger rode behind them. As long as she did not look closely, and his horse made no noise, he might be able to stay hidden.

The girl drew another object out of her coat, this time Mr. Granger could not see what it was, though it seemed vaguely disk-like. She stared at it for a while, then pulled out her wand again. _"Expecto patronum!"_

Mr. Granger, as a medical practitioner, knew enough Latin to understand the phrase: "I await a guardian." He definitely wasn't prepared for the form that the "guardian" took.

A spot of light appeared a few meters to the girl's right, then expanded into a radiant ball, finally taking the form of a large white rabbit. Mr. Granger gasped. Australian farmers generally did not like rabbits: they were pests that bred, well, like rabbits, particularly in Ausralia where they lacked natural enemies. But this glowing rabbit of light was lovely. He had never known that magic could create something so beautiful.

"Tell her I've found the elf, and bring her back here," directed the girl.

The rabbit hopped and vanished. All of this blinking seemed to startle the girl's horse, but she patted and soothed it. No magic this time – she seemed to have a natural way with animals.

There was a large POP sound, and Mr. Granger's own daughter Minnie materialized out of thin air. Mr. Granger nearly called out, but startling witches whose wands could be weapons was not a good idea.

"Hi, Hermione," the equestrienne said calmly, as if Minnie had simply strolled into a room. She waved her disk. "My magic detection spell worked. I've located the Elf. She seems to be camped out in the grasslands, just as Ron said."

"Good!" said Minnie, looking slightly surprised at the success but tactfully hiding it. "I'm sorry that you had to do all the work, Luna."

"It had to be done this way," Luna explained. "Having two nearby witches would have swamped the detection spell altogether, and even nearby Muggles can affect it. But by riding out here alone, I was able to get a signal. She's THAT way, about a mile away." Luna pointed to the direction she spoke of.

"It was clever of you to have remembered that spell. Can I ride behind you on your horse?"

"Oh yes. I deliberately asked for a sturdy animal when I started it out, so that it could bear both our weights. I was tempted to order two horses, but that would have looked odd."

Minnie had that ambivalent expression again, as if thinking and not wanting to say that Luna already looked odd. She crossed over to the horse's left and hoisted herself up behind the blonde, putting her arms around Luna's waist to keep her balance. The action was a fortunate one for Mr. Granger, because neither girl was likely to turn around and see Mr. Granger following them. Minnie was too precariously balanced on the horse's rump to twist around, and Luna's view would be blocked by Minnie herself. Mr. Granger emerged from behind the tree and rode after them.

"What did you lot do while waiting for my Patronus?" asked Luna.

"We've been going around bookstores in Brisbane. Ron has promised to read up on some Muggle history, and even though he may just be humouring me, I wanted to encourage him. Unfortunately most of the bookstores seemed to be focusing on bestsellers and stuff about computers. One store sold us a book called the AGE OF VOLTAIRE, and promised to order other books from "the Amazon", whoever she is. I've run into enough superwomen for a life-"

A second woman materialized, between Mr. Granger 's mount and the girls'.

"Minnie!" called the father. The time for concealment was over. "Watch out behind you!"

"Daddy! Luna, turn us around!"

The newcomer, a staturesque woman with hair even in more disarray than Luna's, pointed a wand at Mr. Granger. Meanwhile Luna urged her horse to turn broadsides to the other two.

"Don't touch my Dad!" called Minnie, drawing her wand. "I know how to cast the killing curse. I don't care if you've lived thousands of years; if you hurt my Dad, I'll kill you."

It was worth all the confusion of the past few days to hear his daughter to say that.

The new woman's response was oddly nonchalant, She tossed her wand to the ground toward the girls. "I'm not going to hurt anybody. I have what I wanted now. There's your gentleman friend's wand back."

Minnie slipped off the horse while Luna kept the woman covered with her own wand. Luna was so unpredictable that she could be scary in her own way, like a loose cannon. Minnie picked up the discarded wand, then circled around the newcomer to stand with her father. She ran her left arm around her father's waist while keeping her wands firmly pointed with her right hand.

"I see that you two woman know about me now. Apparently my silence charm on the boy did not work."

"Luna broke it," said Minnie. The blonde girl looked rather proud. "You claim to be an Elf from the era of the LORD OF THE RINGS, dependent on other people's moods."

"And this Muggle-"

"I know about witches," said Mr. Granger. "My daughter can explain the rest to me later."

"Then I don't have to explain about needing good thoughts. I misjudged you, miss," said the Elf. "I knew about how you treated your parents and your lovers, and thought you were unworthy. But your gentleman friend defended you."

"That was wonderful of Ron," Minnie said wistfully.

"So I set up a test. I arranged for you to see your gentleman friend with a girl you did not recognize, and encouraged you to think the worst. Then I arranged for the girl to have a near-accident, to see what you would do. You did the noble thing, rescuing her from being run over."

"You bitch! You endangered Luna's life just to satisfy a crazy test?"

This was not the moment to scold Minnie about her language. Besides, Mr. Granger couldn't think of a better epithet himself.

"She was not in danger. I would have rescued her if you hadn't. The point is, you passed. After that, I let you get away. Now I have 3 good witches believing in my existence, and my power has increased."

"Hmmph. You hypocrite, you don't care about good and evil in themselves, how they help or blight people's lives. It's just whether they strengthen you."

"If you want people to believe in you," said Luna suddenly. "There's another way." She spoke rather matter-of-factly, as if she had solved a puzzle in the Quibbler.

"Oh?"

"You got a lot of power when that English scholar wrote that book, right? Well, there are other art forms. I learnt about a new one just a few days ago, a seminar."

"Cinema," Minnie corrected hastily.

"I've heard of them. Thought they were a fad," said the older woman dismissively.

Mr. Granger supposed that to a woman who had lived for centuries, a technology that had been around since 1900 must still seem ephemeral.

"If you could persuade somebody to make a ci-ne-ma of LORD OF THE RINGS, and people liked looking at the elves and hobbits and things, wouldn't that give you a lot of power?"

"It might," the woman said softly. "Who would I persuade?"

"I certainly don't know, I just learned about them," Luna said frankly. "But you're thousands of years old, and you've recently got new strength. Couldn't you afford to look around a few years and learn about them? If not in Australia, maybe in New Zealand-"

The woman stood thoughtfully, and suddenly she vanished.

Mr. Granger sighed with relief. The suggestion had gotten rid of the Elf. But both women were being naive; they didn't realize that to produce the impressive screen images required actors, locations, special effects, costing millions of pounds. LORD OF THE RINGS, which he had read years earlier, had dozens of characters, numerous settings, and a lot of magic to fake; it would be prohibitively expensive to turn into a film .

A few years later, he was to learn otherwise, and remember that Luna Lovegood was the first to think of it.

TO BE CONTINUED

_(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The AGE OF VOLTAIRE is a real book, part of a series on world history , by William and Ariel Durant)_


	16. Reconciliation

**Hermione Down Under**

**Chapter 16 Reconciliation**

"I think I'll be going," said Luna, as if apologizing for leaving a tea party. "Could you return my horse to the stable for me, Hermione? It was fun to ride one, but rather two-dimensional."

Hermione's Dad looked intrigued. "I presume that the 'thestrals' you mentioned could travel in three dimensions?"

"Oh yes. But this time I'll be travelling by flying carpet." She turned to Hermione. "I think this time, when I hit the warmer climates, I may take my clothes off and sun myself a bit. After all, they'll be nobody to see me, half a mile up."

"Um, okay," Hermione said, not sure whether she wanted to visualize that or not.

Luna twirled and vanished. Hermione's Dad was obviously still not used to Apparation, and stared at the point for a few seconds more. "Very odd girl. But obviously devoted to you, Hermione."

"Yes, she'll do anything for her friends." _Can I say the same thing for myself?_ _Look how rude I've been to Ron – and yet he vouched for me to Mrs. Arwen_. She fussed a moment with Luna's horse so her father would not see her expression, then hoisted herself into the saddle.

Father and daughter rode side by side, for the first time in their lives. Hermione wasn't even sure when her father learnt to ride: early in life, or while she was at Hogwarts, or in Australia? Hermione was starting to realize how alienated she had been from her parents, even before the disastrous memory spell. It wasn't just her physical absence at Hogwarts. Ron, Neville, even Luna kept up a close relationship with their family members even when attending school. Hermione's problem was the huge cultural difference between Muggle life at home and living in the wizard world. _Does it have to stay this way?_

"Minnie, there's something I need to ask. You said that you knew a killing curse. Have you—"

She could tell he felt a little awkward asking, but he deserved an answer. "I've never killed anybody, Dad. But I've been in fights where people have died on both sides."

"I see, " he said, looking distressed.

"I didn't seek these things out, Dad! Harry was pulled into the war willy-nilly, because of a silly prophecy made about him at birth. I had to stand by him."

"I suppose I'm proud that you DID stand by him, Minnie. Though I still you wish you had let us stay and help you."

They fell silent after that, and tried to derive some pleasure from the sheer physical situation, riding horses through lovely fields in an exotic country, with the sun starting to set. Both knew that there was a large argument looming, when the entire family got together. No reason to start it ahead of time.

Hermione finally dismounted at some distance from the stable. It might confuse the clerk if one girl hired the horse and another returned it, particularly when an encounter with Luna tended to be rather memorable.

Then she went to her parents' room for the argument.

"You violated our minds, taking away crucial memories of our lives," charged her mother. "And if that wasn't enough, you didn't even do it RIGHT! I've been bewildered for a year of old memories leaking through, I thought I was going insane!"

"It was horrid of me," admitted Hermione, almost on the verge of tears. "I'll do anything to make it up. Anything but one."

"One?"

"I can't stop being a witch. I know that it sounds arrogant, but I think the wizard world needs my experience as a Muggle."

"You say you helped bring down that Voldemort. Isn't that enough service to the wizard world?"

"I don't want to measure out service like that. Dad, you admired Luna for coming to my aid when she didn't have to. Can't you understand that I'd like to help out as well? I promise, I won't ever cast a spell on you again. I'll even leave my wand behind when I come to visit."

"It isn't just that," said her mother. "What about other people? Will you promise never to cast a spell on somebody else?"

Hermione hesitated. What her mother was asking was to renounce all the defensive spells she had learnt over the years. The same deprivation that Umbridge had wanted, though from vastly different motives.

Of course, Voldemort and Bellatrix were dead, most of his Death Eaters in prison. She didn't need defensive spells at the moment. But who could foretell the future? An escaped Death Eater trying to ape his former master? Vengeance from a defeated enemy? Some other upstart trying to exploit the Dark Arts?

To Hermione's relief, her father joined in. "I see you're hesitant, Minnie. Will you promise never to cast a spell on somebody except to defend yourself or a loved one against a direct attack?"

She sighed in relief. This was one promise she could keep. "Yes. I'll promise."

"And one more thing. TALK to us, Minnie. I know you're eighteen and consider yourself a grownup now. Things are so topsy-turvy, we were absent from much of your life when you were a teenager. I know that you've already been forced to make decisions that no teenager should have to choose on. But it sounds that you're going to be involved in some complicated politics in the wizard world. Let us help you. I admit, I'm a dentist, not a politician," he added, unconsciously imitating a famous fictional doctor. "But I think we can give you some good advice as things get complex. Perhaps you think we can't understand wizards. But personally I'd like to see the Weasleys more – you're quite involved with the boy, aren't you? And Harry, of course. I'd even like to see Luna again."

"Yes, I'll arrange for you to visit when we're back in England, and I WILL talk with you about what I'm doing ."

She tried to explain about her concerns. Elves in particular: she had had to abandon her SPEW crusade because of the larger crisis, but now she could take it up again, and Dobby's tragic death had already impelled many of her friends to take it more seriously. Her parents were shocked about elves, but now they understood why she felt obliged to do something about them.

It was fairly late at the evening when she got back to the bunk building. She decided to go directly to the shower room. As before, the washing-off was symbolic as well as physical, she felt all her mistakes with her parents wash away. Afterwards she wrapped a towel around herself, picked up her discarded clothes, and walked to her room, confident that she was unlikely to encounter anybody in the hallway.

Ron was lying on the bed.

"Oh!" squeaked Hermione.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Ron.

Hermione walked to the dresser. She would have preferred to run, but that might dislodge the towel and create an even more embarrassing display. "Um, Ron, could look away for a few minutes while I put on my pyjamas?"

"Sure."

She dropped the towel and rummaged for the nightclothes. She could trust Ron not to look, and yet she felt a bit of a thrill standing naked with the boy quite nearby. It was not a feeling that she could explain but, as a Muggle philosopher had once put it, the heart has its own reasons of which Reason knows nothing. "And we can still talk. I thought you wanted to stay in Brisbane, and get away from me for a few days."

"Wanted to tell you what I've learned. I've been reading your history book, honestly. I haven't even gotten to the philosophical part yet, but I've realized something important. Muggles have accomplished a LOT without magic to help them. It's not how much power you have, it's what you do with the power you've got. All of this stuff about "blood" is nonsense. We need to learn more about Muggles at Hogwarts, not just pack it into an elective called "Muggle Studies". Because when we don't, it causes idiots like the Malfoys to swallow dangerous nonsense about Muggle blood making somebody inferior. Poor Draco, he could never understand how somebody like you, a, um—"

"Mudblood."

Ron shuddered but continued. "—could outperform a pureblood like himself, and it caused us AND him a lot of misery over the years. So yes, I'll help you persuade McGonagall to change the curriculum."

"Thank you, Ron. That means a lot to me. But let me bring you up to date on what's going on here."

She described the encounter with Mrs. Arwen. "So now she's through with us and looking into a LORD OF THE RINGS film. Dad says that's impractical, but either way she's out of our hair now. You can turn around now. Ron, I want to thank you for vouching for me to her. I know I've been rotten to you during the whole trip, and I feel terrible about it. "

Ron sighed. "This trip. But you've been the best of friends for seven years. And the person who came nearest to throwing the friendship away wasn't you, it was ME, deserting you and Harry in the tent. But the two of you forgave me and took me back into your friendship. Remembering that, I was willing to put up with quite a bit of crap from you, particularly when I knew where you were coming from."

"Where was I coming from?" She wanted to know if Ron understood her motivations, instead of just considering her a bossy know-it-all.

"You felt really guilty about hexing your parents, then you got terrified when it looked like you wouldn't even be able to find them, and when you finally found them, they put you in a huge dilemma – them vs. the wizard world. Then you were so anxious to demonstrate problems with wizard education that you put me in an embarrassing position. It was Hogwarts that you were trying to criticize, not me."

Hermione winced. "I admit to all that. By the way, I've reconciled with my parents. I can keep both parents and wizarddom, as long as I keep certain promises, which I will."

She knew that she did not deserve her parents' forgiveness, but was determined to earn it. Fortunately, Ron did not press her.

"Thank God that's all over. Let's get some sleep now."

The room still had just one bed; Ron's departure and Hermione's kidnapping had deprived them of the chance of ordering another one. Hermione climbed in one side, Ron climbed in the other, and neither had anything more in my mind than a restful night's sleep.

Afterwards they were neither quite clear on how it happened. As Hermione remembered it later, Ron accidentally brushed against her in bed, and she playfully retaliated by nudging him back. Soon they were tustling and laughing together, shifting positions to the middle of the bed in order to make it easier to reach each other.

At one point, after she had given a playful punch in the arm, Ron pinned her down to avoid another blow.

"Say uncle," he demanded.

"I've got a better idea," she said. "_Alohanuda_!"

Her wand was under her pillow, a habit she had developed when they were hiding from Voldemort and could be attacked at any minute. That was close enough to be triggered. Her clothes vanished from her body and rematerialized in the corner, where they fell to the floor in a heap. Ron found himself holding a naked Hermione.

"W-what!"

"Found the spell in Forbidden Books," Hermione chuckled. "Thought we'd be classy. The Greeks wrestled naked." She forebore to mention that the Greeks didn't wrestle boy-on-girl, but Ron was clever enough both to realize that and to not say so.

"Okay – _alohanuda!_"

Ron's clothes followed suit, and fell on top of Hermione's. While back in the bed-

About twenty minutes later Hermione was lying serenely in the bed, gazing up at her lover. It wasn't the fight itself that had aroused them, of course; they were never actually trying to hurt each other, and the final moments had been of great tenderness. But it had helped them release their inhibitions. A few moments of acting on impulse had accomplished what days of talking had not: they had gotten together at last.

And this time it had felt RIGHT. Ron was her man, not Harry – though she knew she would never be able to say that to her lover. Instead-

"I love you, Ron."

"I love you, Hermione – what are you giggling at?"

"Oh, a silly pun – I just realized that now I'm really _DOWN UNDER_!"

THE END


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